said Faith,
looking very much amused and a little afraid of being overheard.

"That is a melancholy fact! And my self-indulgence needs to be kept in
check. Miss Faith," he said dropping his voice still more, "Stranger
regrets very much that he must now go through that figure of the
cotillion called 'Ladies change'!" And with a low and laughing bow, Mr.
Linden reined back his horse and returned to his former place with all
the soberness that circumstances allowed.

There was no soberness whatever in the face with which Faith
recommenced her tete-a-tete with Miss Harrison. The doctor was
perfectly in order.

"I have been thinking," he said, "since my question of how the world
went with you, what a very insignificant thing, as to extent, '_the
world_' of any one person is."

"Compared with the universe," said Mr. Linden.

"What sort of a world have you got into?" said Dr. Harrison somewhat
impatiently. "No--the actual extent of your and my consciousness--of
that field of action and perception which we magnificently call our
world! What a mighty limited field it is!"

"I think you describe it correctly," said Mr. Linden: "it is both
mighty and limited. A little space railed off for every man--and yet
larger than that man can ever fill."

"It seems to me too insignificant to be worth filling."

"There is a little outlet on every side that makes it impossible to
fill!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that while our action at every step touches other people, and
their consequent action moves on with like effect, the limits of our
power in this world can never be known."

"Will you think me impertinent if I ask once more what you mean?--or
rather, ask you to enlarge a little?"

"If a man plants the first clover seed or thistle-down in some great
continent," said Mr. Linden, "from whose little field is it, that in a
hundred years the whole land bears thistles or clover?"

"It won't," said the doctor, "if a hundred other things are sown at the
same time. And so it seems to me in life--that one action is
counteracted by another, universally,--and nothing makes anything!--of
any avail."

"If _nothing_ is of any avail, things don't counteract each other. You
are proving my position."

The doctor smiled, not unpleasantly.

"I see," he said, "you can maintain any position you choose to
take,--on the ground or in the air! I must give way to you on _this_
ground." And Dr. Harrison reined back his horse and came int