"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown
coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I
discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you
that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other----"

"You--avoiding!" I interpolated.

"Well--I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three
of those girls are married and living in town."

"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who
else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?"

"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The
Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then
they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic
announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses."

I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next
neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but there had
been no announcement of any engagement--nor sign of one.

The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he
considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised,"
he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and
though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight
of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be
walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled
in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor."

"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not--our Professor?"

The Skeptic nodded solemnly.

"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before
yesterday he was free!"

He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and
hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A
minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at
the window, was returning his wave.

"He's looking extremely well," I observed. "He must be twenty pounds
heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably
rather thinning."

"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the
Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction.

"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty
breakfast we had just consumed.

"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't
it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he