A Court of Inquiry | Page 9

any previous occasion.
* * * * *
From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men. Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention than we were accustomed to expect--the two men were too busy standing by each other to have much time for us.
"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm simply not allowed to refuse."
The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down and elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly, and said, "That's surely very nice for you."
"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a farewell walk to-night. You first"--she indicated the Philosopher. "Or shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?"
She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been no way out for him.
"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly."
Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce him, and the Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among some bushes.
"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet.
"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently.
"We haven't! Why not?"
She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as before, but quite firmly.
The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't know----"
"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely evening?"
"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It would be delightful on the river."
She shook her head again.
"Not nicer than here," she answered.
The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the Philosopher to lean upon.
"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. Rhodora is a new granddaughter of the old lady--by which I mean to say that Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl arrived to pay her a visit.
"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her."
Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own. But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright, and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself.
The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She