w, sail a yacht, or even guide a
balloon; but when it comes to grass, give him a bench.

Isabel Varce, in a wonderful costume of woodland green, her somewhat
sharp features shaded by a shepherdess hat, carried out her purpose--the
subjugation of a certain Peter Dane, a widower of distinction, a late
arrival at Caryl's. Mrs. Bannert had Ward Heathcote by her side,
apparently to the satisfaction of both. Other men and women were
contented or discontented as it happened; and two or three school-girls
of twelve or thirteen really enjoyed themselves, being at the happy age
when blue sky and golden sunshine, green woods and lunch on the grass,
are all that is necessary for supreme happiness.

There was one comic element present, and by mistake. A reverend
gentleman of the kind that calls everybody "brother" had arrived
unexpectedly at Caryl's; he was journeying for the purpose of
distributing certain thin pamphlets of powerfully persuasive influence
as to general virtue, and as he had not been over that ground for some
years, he had no suspicion that Caryl's had changed, or that it was any
more important than Barr's, Murphy's, Allen's, and other hamlets in the
neighborhood and possessive case, with whose attributes he was familiar.
Old John Caryl had taken him in for a night or two, and had ordered the
unused school-house at the cross-roads to be swept out for a hamlet
evening service; but the hamlet could not confine the Reverend Ezra
Sloane. His heart waxed warm within him at the sight of so many persons,
all well-to-do, pleasant to the eye, and apparently not pressed for
time. He had spent his life in ministering to the poor in this world's
goods, and to the workers who had no leisure; it was a new pleasure to
him simply to be among the agreeable, well-dressed, and unanxious. He
took his best coat from his lean valise, and wore it steadily. He was so
happy in his child-like satisfaction that no one rebuffed him, and when
he presented himself, blandly smiling, to join the picnic party, no one
had the heart to tell him of his mistake. As he climbed complacently
into one of the wagons, however, stiff old Mrs. Bannert, on the back
seat, gave John Caryl, standing at the horses' heads, a look which he
understood. The Reverend Ezra must depart the next morning, or be
merged--conclusively merged--in the hamlet. His fate was sealed. But
to-day he disported himself to his heart's content; his smiling face was
everywhere. He went ea