All I know is that when I come across one of these
creatures in my path I jump to one side, and cry out,--sometimes using
very improper words. The fact is, they make me crazy for the moment."

"I understand what you mean," said Miss Vincent. "I used to have the
same feeling about spiders, but I was ashamed of it, and kept a little
menagerie of spiders until I had got over the feeling; that is, pretty
much got over it, for I don't love the creatures very dearly, though I
don't scream when I see one."

"What did you tell me, Miss Vincent, was this fellow's particular
antipathy?"

"That is just the question. I told you that we don't know and we can't
guess what it is. The people here are tired out with trying to
discover some good reason for the young man's keeping out of the way of
everybody, as he does. They say he is odd or crazy, and they don't seem
to be able to tell which. It would make the old ladies of the village
sleep a great deal sounder,--yes, and some of the young ladies, too,--if
they could find out what this Mr. Kirkwood has got into his head, that
he never comes near any of the people here."

"I think I can find out," said the Interviewer, whose professional
ambition was beginning to be excited. "I never came across anybody yet
that I could n't get something out of. I am going to stay here a week
or two, and before I go I will find out the secret, if there is any, of
this Mr. Maurice Kirkwood."

We must leave the Interviewer to his contrivances until they present us
with some kind of result, either in the shape of success or failure.

XI. THE INTERVIEWER ATTACKS THE SPHINX.

When Miss Euthymia Tower sent her oar off in flashing splinters, as she
pulled her last stroke in the boat-race, she did not know what a strain
she was putting upon it. She did know that she was doing her best, but
how great the force of her best was she was not aware until she saw
its effects. Unconsciousness belonged to her robust nature, in all its
manifestations. She did not pride herself on her knowledge, nor reproach
herself for her ignorance. In every way she formed a striking contrast
to her friend, Miss Vincent. Every word they spoke betrayed the
difference between them: the sharp tones of Lurida's head-voice,
penetrative, aggressive, sometimes irritating, revealed the
corresponding traits of mental and moral character; the quiet,
conversational contralto of Euthymia was the index of a nature restful
and sympathet