e is not physically conscious of the hoops; but hoops
there are in the soul of him or her who loves his fellow-men... Take this
afternoon, for instance. How did we start out? As strangers you might
almost say, and yet--all of us--how have we come home?"

"In a cart," said the only remaining joy, who sat upon his mother's lap
and felt sick.

We skirted the field that we had passed through, going round by the
cemetery. Herr Langen leaned over the edge of the seat and greeted the
graves. He was sitting next to the Advanced Lady--inside the shelter of
her shoulder. I heard her murmur: "You look like a little boy with
your hair blowing about in the wind." Herr Langen, slightly less
bitter--watched the last graves disappear. And I heard her murmur: "Why
are you so sad? I too am very sad sometimes--but--you look young enough
for me to dare to say this--I--too--know of much joy!"

"What do you know?" said he.

I leaned over and touched the Advanced Lady's hand. "Hasn't it been a
nice afternoon?" I said questioningly. "But you know, that theory of
yours about women and Love--it's as old as the hills--oh, older!"

From the road a sudden shout of triumph. Yes, there he was again--white
beard, silk handkerchief and undaunted enthusiasm.

"What did I say? Eight kilometres--it is!"

"Seven and a half!" shrieked Herr Erchardt.

"Why, then, do you return in carts? Eight kilometres it must be."

Herr Erchardt made a cup of his hands and stood up in the jolting cart
while Frau Kellermann clung to his knees. "Seven and a half!"

"Ignorance must not go uncontradicted!" I said to the Advanced Lady.

12. THE SWING OF THE PENDULUM.

The landlady knocked at the door.

"Come in," said Viola.

"There is a letter for you," said the landlady, "a special letter"--she
held the green envelope in a corner of her dingy apron.

"Thanks." Viola, kneeling on the floor, poking at the little dusty
stove, stretched out her hand. "Any answer?"

"No; the messenger has gone."

"Oh, all right!" She did not look the landlady in the face; she was
ashamed of not having paid her rent, and wondered grimly, without any
hope, if the woman would begin to bluster again.

"About this money owing to me--" said the landlady.

"Oh, the Lord--off she goes!" thought Viola, turning her back on the
woman and making a grimace at the stove.

"It's settle--or it's go!" The landlady raised her voice; she began
to bawl. "I'm a landlady, I am, and a respe