told me about that, besides, because she was sittin' in the grass and
all. She told Great-Uncle Joe and Aunt Hattie about it, too."

"My heavens!" Noble gasped, as for the first time he realized to what
trumpeting publicity that seemingly hushed and moonlit bower, sacred to
Julia, had been given over. He gulped, flushed, repeated "My heavens!"
and then was able to add, with a feeble suggestion of lightness: "I
suppose your grandfather understood it was just a sort of joke, didn't
he?"

"No," said Herbert, and continued in a friendly way, for he was
flattered by Noble's interest in his remarks, and began to feel a
liking for him. "No. He said Aunt Julia only talked like that because
she couldn't think of anything else to say, and it was wearin' him out.
He said all the good it did was to make you smoke more to make her think
how reckless you were; but the worst part of it was, he'd be the only
one to suffer, because it blows all through the house and he's got to
sit in it. He said he just could stand the smell of _some_ cigarettes,
but if you burned any more o' yours on his porch he was goin' to ask
your father to raise your salary for collectin' real-estate rents, so't
you'd feel able to buy some real tobacco. He----"

But the flushed listener felt that he had heard as much as he was called
upon to bear; and he interrupted, in a voice almost out of control, to
say that he must be "getting on downtown." His young friend, diverted
from bugs, showed the greatest willingness to continue the narrative
indefinitely, evidently being in possession of copious material; but
Noble turned to depart. An afterthought detained him. "Where was it she
lost her earring?"

"Who?"

"Your Aunt Julia."

"Why, _I_ didn't say she lost any earring," Herbert returned. "I said
she always _was_ losin' 'em: I didn't say she did."

"Then you didn't mean----"

"No," said Herbert, "_I_ haven't heard of her losin' anything at all,
lately." Here he added: "Well, grandpa kept goin' on about you, and he
told her----Well, so long!" And gazed after the departing Mr. Dill in
some surprise at the abruptness of the latter's leave-taking. Then,
wondering how the back of Noble's neck could have got itself so fiery
sunburnt, Herbert returned to his researches in the grass.

* * * * *

The peaceful street, shady and fragrant with summer, was so quiet that
the footfalls of the striding Noble were like an interruption of
c