A Court of Inquiry | Page 7

may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I
should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less
than Miss Camellia's."
"Considerably."
"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't
suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's
clothes--unless he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me
we've been forced to--eh?"
"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the
Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all.
"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time

speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.--How comfortable it is
on this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat--on a
July evening!"
The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned--after an hour. The Skeptic, as
he came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the
hall, looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us.
Although it had been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's
clothes or her smile, I doubted if he had been bored.

III
DAHLIA
O, weary fa' the women fo'k, For they winna let a body be! --James
Hogg.
My neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch of
lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her
father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite of
these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that there were
guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's long legs
from her window, which looks down my way through a vista of
tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she appeared,
coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across the lawn, a
fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles, and one of
those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear in the
country.
Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many
points of view. If only----
"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the
Philosopher, looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its
scientific aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although
he spends so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he
seldom finds much left in which to fish.

The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made
a gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched
himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch.
"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And
once knowing, you'll always know."
The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information,
and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he
dropped his eyes to his trout flies.
The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily
extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business
communication in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder,
but he withdrew his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused
before him. Her first greeting was for him, although I had risen just
behind him.
"Oh--how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his
feet and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if
to pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said
something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers
clinging to his.
"Been--er--horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his
hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did.
I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her
from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I
presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies.
She scanned him closely--the Philosopher is very good-looking
(almost--but not quite--better-looking than the Skeptic)--then she
dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely
offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better,
and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she
remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained
his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies,
asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way

which showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.
* * * * *
Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."
Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
expression.
The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.
"You will excuse----" he began.
But