ially feminine, if ever a girl was."

"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl. That is--I thought she
was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven."

The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was
puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the
sunset--which was unusually fine that evening--gave utterance to a deep
note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever
there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it
was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks--even the blooming
youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not
made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means
what is known as a "beauty."

"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this
summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no
doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his
hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either--except Dahlia. I can't stand
her," he added resentfully.

The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who
could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic removed his pipe from his
mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by
Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women
behind their backs.

"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has
surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out
on the river with you--and helped you make kites, and rigged little
ships for you----"

"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me--when she can't get
a man!"

The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently.
Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly
removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch
step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I
shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after
some small puppies down there in the hay.

* * * * *

We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and
the others made a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless
and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an
invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher
consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking