ed that temperatures of ninety in the
shade were inconstant phenomena. It would be but a temporary annoyance
and the best thing I could do, since I was driven out of house and home,
was to take my hat and go to the beach for a swim. The die was cast and
I moved to the door, but had to return to place a paperweight on loose
sheets littering my desk, whereupon my eyes fell on the old pack of
cards and I threw the hat upon the bed and began solitaire. My plans
often work out in such fashion. Ten minutes later I was electrified by a
cry, a tiny squeak that could hardly have disturbed Herod himself. But
it aroused my curiosity and I tiptoed along the hallway, suspecting that
the woman Eulalie might not be attending properly to her duties,
whatever they were. Everything was still again, and the unjustly
mistrusted party was rocking ponderously, with an amorphous bundle in
her lap. She smiled at me, graciously. Upon the bed I caught a glimpse
of wonderful chestnut hair touched by a thread of sunlight streaming
tenuously from the side of a lowered blind; also, I saw a rounded arm.
Eulalie put a fat finger to rubicund lips and I retired, cautiously.

How in the world could I have been bothering my head about a trumpery
and impossible dog? In that room Nature was making apologetic amends. A
woman had obeyed the law of God and man, which, like all other laws,
falls heaviest on the weak. She was being graciously permitted to forget
past misery and, perchance, dream of happier days to come, while David
Cole, scrub coiner of empty phrases, bemoaned the need of keeping quiet
for a few hours. I decided that I ought to be ashamed of myself. "The
Professor at the Breakfast Table" was at my hand and I took it up, the
volume opening spontaneously at the "Story of Iris," and I lost myself
in its delight.

An hour later came a light step, swiftly, and the little doctor
appeared. He is as tall as I, but looks so very young that he seems
small to me. He entered my room, cheerfully, looking as fresh and nice
as if rosy dreams had filled his night.

"Well! How are things wagging?" he inquired breezily.

He was fanning himself with his neat straw hat, and I asked him to sit
down for a moment.

"Sure! But only for a minute or two. I have a throat clinic to attend at
one o'clock. There's just time for this visit, then a bite at Childs'
and a skip to Bellevue."

I looked at my watch and found he had allowed himself just fifty minutes
for th