osed the words
were clear enough."

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "your words were clear enough, but then you
were of course referring back to some event, or series of events, in
which I had the singular ill fortune to displease you. Maybe you don't
know yourself, and spoke only from the emotion generated by the event,
or series of events, in which, as I have said, I had the singular ill
fortune to displease you."

"How awf'ly clever!" she said.

"But I can't recall the event, or series of events, at all," he
continued, musing with a scholarly air and disregarding her mockery. "I
can't remember a thing about it. To be sure, it might have been that
time when----"

"I think it very stupid of you to hunt for a meaning when I believe I
made everything so perfectly clear," she said wrathfully.

"Well, you yourself might not be aware of what you really meant," he
answered sagely. "Women often do that sort of thing, you know. Women
often speak from motives which, if brought face to face with them, they
wouldn't be able to distinguish from any other thing which they had
never before seen."

"Hollie, if there is a disgusting person in the world it is he who
pretends to know so much concerning a woman's mind."

"Well, that's because they who know, or pretend to know, so much about a
woman's mind are invariably satirical, you understand," said Hollanden
cheerfully.

A dog ran frantically across the lawn, his nose high in the air and his
countenance expressing vast perturbation and alarm. "Why, Billie forgot
to whistle for his dog when he started for home," said Hollanden. "Come
here, old man! Well, 'e was a nice dog!" The girl also gave invitation,
but the setter would not heed them. He spun wildly about the lawn until
he seemed to strike his master's trail, and then, with his nose near to
the ground, went down the road at an eager gallop. They stood and
watched him.

"Stanley's a nice dog," said Hollanden.

"Indeed he is!" replied the girl fervently.

Presently Hollanden remarked: "Well, don't let's fight any more,
particularly since we can't decide what we're fighting about. I can't
discover the reason, and you don't know it, so----"

"I do know it. I told you very plainly."

"Well, all right. Now, this is the way to work that slam: You give the
ball a sort of a lift--see!--underhanded and with your arm crooked and
stiff. Here, you smash this other ball into the net. Hi! Look out! If
you hit it that way you'll k