eeks into the living-room.

"Leg bad again?" asked Desire casually.

"No--temper."

"It's time for tea. I'll see about it."

"You'll take your wet things off first. You must be wet through. Do you
want to come down with pneumonia?"

The girl's eyebrows lifted. "That's silly," she said. And indeed
the remark was absurd enough addressed to one on whom the wonder and
mystery of budding life rested so visibly. "I'm not wet at all," she
went on. "Only my coat." She slipped out of the old tweed ulster,
scattering bright drops about the room. "And my hair," she added as if
by an afterthought. "I'll dry it presently. But I don't wonder you're
cross. The fire is almost out. We'll have something to eat when the
kettle boils. Father's gone up trail. He probably won't be back." For
an instant she stood with a considering air as if intending to add
something. Then turned and went into the kitchen without doing it. She
came back with a handful of pine-knots with which she deftly mended the
fire.

The professor moved restlessly.

"I'll be around soon now," he said, "and then you shan't do that."

"Shan't do what?"

"Carry wood."

"That's funny." Desire placed a crackling pine-knot on the apex of her
pyramid and sat back on her heels to watch it blaze. Her tone was
ruminative. "There's no real sense in that, you know. Why shouldn't I
carry wood when I am perfectly able to do it? Your objection is purely
an acquired one--a manifestation of the herd instinct."

There was a slight pause. Professor Spence was wondering if he had
really heard this.

"W--what was that you said?" he asked cautiously.

Desire laughed. He had observed with wonder, amounting almost to awe,
that she never giggled.

"Score one for me!" She turned grey, mirthful eyes on his. "Amn't I
learned? I read it in an article in an old Sociological Review--a copy
left here by a man whom father--well, we needn't bother about that part
of it. But the article was wonderful. I can't remember who wrote it."

"Trotter, perhaps,--yes, it would be Trotter," murmured the professor.

Desire swung round upon her heels, regarding him a trifle wistfully.

"I should like to know all that you know," she said. "All the strange
things inside our minds."

"Would you? But if you knew what I know you would only know that you
knew nothing at all."

"Yes, it's all very well to say that," shrewdly, "but you don't mean
it. Besides, even if you don't know anything, you hav