han before, the pitiable victim of a woman
in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for
her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other
men.

"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the
Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She
accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which
gave life to her remarks.

"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the
Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone.

"You used to have better luck when you went alone," said Dahlia. "Do
you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any
fish our way?"

"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river,
first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the
Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was
fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the
Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly.

"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he.

"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and
see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to
the Skeptic.

"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the
moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking
is good there--keeps away the midges."

"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that
part of the country."

"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in
the evening, then," persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to
settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was
always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin."

Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us
to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly
face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish
demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to
demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his
side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself
occupied--also quite as of old--with keeping out of her way. Altogether,
it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the
impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected
suitors of her own.

When t