"
"I knew it," said he triumphantly.
"But how?"
"And I know that you keep yours in order."
"But _how_?"
"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can
see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of
her collar with a common brass pin----"
I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but
his eyes are so keen and----
He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."
"She has many lovely qualities----" I began.
"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that
makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----"
The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall,
above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his
bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a
minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive
for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.
"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.
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