rbing the loose ends of thought that
a student suffers to lie upon his table."

Mrs. Dolihide agreed that the other cat was good enough, but that she
had fits, and in his way Milford acknowledged that fits, while not
necessarily arguing a want of merit, could not avoid giving an erratic
cast even to most pronounced worth. This was all the Professor needed,
and he forthwith launched a ship of disquisition, but when he had fully
rigged it and neatly trimmed its sails, his wife broke in with the
remark that the country was overrun with common people from the city.
One would naturally expect noisy uncouthness, and a lack in many
instances of refined reading, but--

"My dear," the Professor interrupted, "you must bear in mind that the
minor summer resort is a kind of Castle Garden, with now and then a
shining exception. Here we have the drudges of trade. Am I right, Mr.
Milford?"

"Yes, the experiments, the hagglers and the failures."

The Professor slapped his leg. "A goodly remark, sir; upon my soul, a
worthy illustration."

"And I have a good deal of fault to find with the home society," said
Mrs. Dolihide. "It is jagged and raw, with a constant scuffle after the
dollar--"

"The necessary dollar," observed the Professor.

"The scarce dollar," she replied.

"And therefore necessary, my dear. But you are right as to society.
There are many good people here, excellent families, but the rank and
file are common scratchers of the soil. But they thrive, a reproach to
men of more intelligence. And now, sir," he added, turning to Milford,
"upon what does success depend? Mind? Oh, no. Industry? No. What then?
Temperament. Temperament is of itself a success. It--"

"Supper," said a young woman appearing in the door.

At the table Milford was presented to Miss Katherine Dolihide, slim,
cold and prettyish. She might have had a respect for her father's
learning, but it was evident that she held his failure in contempt. With
her, a mind that gathered the trinkets of knowledge and fell short of
providing luxuries for the body could not be reckoned among the virtues.
Wisdom's reflected light was dimmer than an earring. She looked at
Milford, and he felt that he failed to reach her mark. She gave him, he
thought, the dry and narrow smile of ironic pity. She asked him if he
liked the country. He answered that he did, and she remarked that it was
a crude picture daubed with green. There were no old mills. She loved
old mills; n