he Scientific Humanist observed them, he could not have contested
the fact, that as a couple who had set up to be father and mother
of Britons, they were doing their duty. Files of egg-cups with
disintegrated shells bore witness to it, and they were still at work,
hardly talking from rapidity of exercise. Both were dressed for an
expedition. She had her bonnet on, and he his yachting-hat. His sleeves
were turned over at the wrists, and her gown showed its lining on her
lap. At times a chance word might spring a laugh, but eating was the
business of the hour, as I would have you to know it always will be
where Cupid is in earnest. Tribute flowed in to them from the subject
land. Neglected lies Love's penny-whistle on which they played so
prettily and charmed the spheres to hear them. What do they care for the
spheres, who have one another? Come, eggs! come, bread and butter! come,
tea with sugar in it and milk! and welcome, the jolly hours. That is a
fair interpretation of the music in them just now. Yonder instrument was
good only for the overture. After all, what finer aspiration can lovers
have, than to be free man and woman in the heart of plenty? And is it
not a glorious level to have attained? Ah, wretched Scientific Humanist!
not to be by and mark the admirable sight of these young creatures
feeding. It would have been a spell to exorcise the Manichee, methinks.

The mighty performance came to an end, and then, with a flourish of
his table-napkin, husband stood over wife, who met him on the confident
budding of her mouth. The poetry of mortals is their daily prose. Is
it not a glorious level to have attained? A short, quick-blooded kiss,
radiant, fresh, and honest as Aurora, and then Richard says without lack
of cheer, "No letter to-day, my Lucy!" whereat her sweet eyes dwell on
him a little seriously, but he cries, "Never mind! he'll be coming down
himself some morning. He has only to know her, and all's well! eh?" and
so saying he puts a hand beneath her chin, and seems to frame her fair
face in fancy, she smiling up to be looked at.

"But one thing I do want to ask my darling," says Lucy, and dropped into
his bosom with hands of petition. "Take me on board his yacht with him
to-day--not leave me with those people! Will he? I'm a good sailor, he
knows!"

"The best afloat!" laughs Richard, hugging her, "but, you know, you
darling bit of a sailor, they don't allow more than a certain number on
board for the race