some of them in a way which
showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.

* * * * *

Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."

Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
expression.

The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.

"You will excuse----" he began.

But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she
said softly.

"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I
think, myself."

Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at
least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.

"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a
disappointed child.

I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I
observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is
invariably courteous.

"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's
rather a long walk to the stream and--I'm afraid the boat leaks
considerably, but----"

"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with
delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old----" She gave the Skeptic a
look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it
failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my
sunbonnet--just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called
back to us, as the two walked away.

* * * * *

The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His
face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon
know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't
think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes--but that was quick
work!"

He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he
inquired, still chuckling.

"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery
without looking up.

"Will you go fishing?"

The inquiry was directed at me.

I shook my head.

The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm
going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared.
"I want to see Philo when she----"

The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?"
she asked.

The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away--not in the direction of the
trout stream.

Dah