ad
blundered into the room that night. He had never asked the question; he
was very much inclined to, now. However, Boots's reply could be only the
negative answer that any decent man must give.

Sitting there in the carpetless room piled high with dusty,
linen-shrouded furniture, he looked around, an involuntary smile
twitching his mouth. Somehow he had not felt so light-hearted for a
long, long while--and whether it came from his comrade's sermon, or his
own unexpected acknowledgment of its truth, or whether it was pure
amusement at Boots in the role of householder and taxpayer, he could not
decide. But he was curiously happy of a sudden; and he smiled broadly
upon Mr. Lansing:

"What about _your_ marrying," he said--"after all this talk about mine!
What about it, Boots? Is this new house the first modest step toward the
matrimony you laud so loudly?"

"Sure," said that gentleman airily; "that's what I'm here for."

"Really?"

"Well, of course, idiot. I've always been in love."

"You mean you actually have somebody in view--?"

"No, son. I've always been in love with--love. I'm a sentimental sentry
on the ramparts of reason. I'm properly armed for trouble, now, so if
I'm challenged I won't let my chance slip by me. Do you see? There are
two kinds of sentimental warriors in this amorous world: the man and the
nincompoop. The one brings in his prisoner, the other merely howls for
her. So I'm all ready for the only girl in the world; and if she ever
gets away from me I'll give you my house, cellar, and back yard,
including the wistaria and both cats--"

"You have neither wistaria nor cats--yet."

"Neither am I specifically in love--yet. So that's all right--Philip.
Come on; let's take another look at that fascinating cellar of mine!"

But Selwyn laughingly declined, and after a little while he went away,
first to look up a book which he was having bound for Eileen, then to
call on his sister who, with Eileen, had just returned from a week at
Silverside with the children, preliminary to moving the entire
establishment there for the coming summer; for the horses and dogs had
already gone; also Kit-Ki, a pessimistic parrot, and the children's two
Norwegian ponies.

"Silverside is too lovely for words!" exclaimed Nina as Selwyn entered
the library. "The children almost went mad. You should have seen the
dogs, too--tearing round and round the lawn in circles--poor things!
They were crazy for the fresh, new turf.