"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly.
"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be
clear in."
"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher.
He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way.
The Gay Lady rose.
"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice.
"Good-night."
The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even
after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall.
"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that
sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may
possibly think they're in the same class."
I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out
between them.
IV
RHODORA
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
--_Gray._
This morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from
Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong
to us exclusively--she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all
of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity.
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