unfair," said Mr. Wilcox, drawing a gasp from Evie, who knew
that her father was becoming dangerous.

"There, you hear that? Most unfair, the gentleman says. There! Not
content with"--pointing at Margaret--"you can't deny it." His voice
rose; he was falling into the rhythm of a scene with Jacky. "But as
soon as I'm useful it's a very different thing. 'Oh yes, send for him.
Cross-question him. Pick his brains.' Oh yes. Now, take me on the whole,
I'm a quiet fellow: I'm law-abiding, I don't wish any unpleasantness;
but I--I--"

"You," said Margaret--"you--you--"

Laughter from Evie as at a repartee.

"You are the man who tried to walk by the Pole Star."

More laughter.

"You saw the sunrise."

Laughter.

"You tried to get away from the fogs that are stifling us all--away past
books and houses to the truth. You were looking for a real home."

"I fail to see the connection," said Leonard, hot with stupid anger.

"So do I." There was a pause. "You were that last Sunday--you are this
to-day. Mr. Bast! I and my sister have talked you over. We wanted to
help you; we also supposed you might help us. We did not have you here
out of charity--which bores us--but because we hoped there would be a
connection between last Sunday and other days. What is the good of your
stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into
our daily lives? They have never entered into mine, but into yours,
we thought--Haven't we all to struggle against life's daily greyness,
against pettiness, against mechanical cheerfulness, against suspicion?
I struggle by remembering my friends; others I have known by remembering
some place--some beloved place or tree--we thought you one of these."

"Of course, if there's been any misunderstanding," mumbled Leonard, "all
I can do is to go. But I beg to state--" He paused. Ahab and Jezebel
danced at his boots and made him look ridiculous. "You were picking my
brain for official information--I can prove it--I--" He blew his nose
and left them.

"Can I help you now?" said Mr. Wilcox, turning to Margaret. "May I have
one quiet word with him in the hall?"

"Helen, go after him--do anything--anything--to make the noodle
understand."

Helen hesitated.

"But really--" said their visitor. "Ought she to?"

At once she went.

He resumed. "I would have chimed in, but I felt that you could polish
him off for yourselves--I didn't interfere. You were splendid, Miss
Schlegel--absolutely splend