ehead, the firmness of her chin, the line of her lips
in repose----"

"Mercy on us! You talk like a novel," interrupted Uncle Bob, who was
longing to get in an oar. "Now I like her best when she laughs."

"But I was speaking of her face in repose."

"And any way," persisted Uncle Bob, "if she isn't a beauty, I don't know
what you call it. She has the witchingest ways!"

"We were speaking of features, not ways. If you dissect her----"

"Good Heavens, Prue! Find another word."

"If you dissect her," the doctor repeated firmly, "you will find nothing
remarkable in her separate features."

"But I insist," Uncle Bob spoke in a loud tone, and brought his fist
down so emphatically his coffee spilled over into the saucer, "that
beauty is a complex thing consisting of ways as well as features."
The sentence was concluded in a milder tone, owing to the coffee.

"Nancy, give Mr. Vandegrift another saucer," said Dr. Prue.

"My dear, there is no need. I can pour this back," he protested. Then, a
fresh saucer having been substituted, he went on: "Take a landscape----"

"I haven't time for landscapes this morning, father. I am due at the
hospital at nine. You'll have to excuse me."

"Well, what I was going to say is, that it is the combination of all
her separate qualities and characteristics, manifested in ways and
otherwise, that is beautiful--that constitutes beauty. The something
that makes her Margaret Elizabeth, that subtle--" Uncle Bob was talking
against time.

"Now, father," Dr. Prue pushed back her chair and rose, "there is
nothing subtle about Margaret Elizabeth, and you know it. She is a
thoroughly nice, quite pretty girl, and that is all there is to it. If
those Penningtons don't spoil her." With this the doctor disappeared.

"Miss Prue and her pa do argufy to beat the band," Nancy remarked to
Jenny the cook as she waited for hot cakes.

"That's all, Nancy. I shan't want any more," her master told her when
she carried them into the dining-room. "You needn't wait." As the door
closed behind her he smiled to himself. He always enjoyed the leisurely
comfort of those last cakes.

The morning sun shone in brightly, emphasising the pleasant, substantial
appointments of the room and the breakfast table. Its glint in the old
silver coffee pot was a joy to him; the unopened paper at his elbow
spoke to him of the interests of a day, like it, not yet unfolded. Uncle
Bob after his own fashion savoured life....

[Il