little, of course, either
to him or to the pretty little pathetic reporter girl, but it had
injected a bit of pleasure into her routine, and given him an insight
into another kind of maiden from the well-kept, sheltered women he knew
best. Such things help a man's larger sympathies. He was glad that he
could enjoy many types of men and women.

A rumble of wheels outside brought him out of this particular by-path
into the highway.

"What a dispensation that the mater didn't come home in the middle of
it!" he said with a sigh of satisfaction.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FALLS

According to his promise, Dick presented himself at Ellery's office on
the next afternoon. He wore a brisk and moving air.

"Miss Quincy is not here to-day," Norris said without looking up.

"I know it," Dick answered promptly. "Are you through yet?"

"I've finished with the ephemerae of this particular Tuesday, and before
I begin on those of Wednesday, I have a few precious moments to waste on
you." Ellery wheeled his chair around.

"Do you know that this is Decoration Day and a holiday?"

"Is there anything a sub-editor does not know?"

"Have you ever been to the Falls of Wabeno?"

"No."

"And you call yourself a true citizen of St. Etienne? Come with me and
see the populace chew gum amid scenes of natural beauty."

"I thought we were going to agitate civic reform."

"We'll agitate as we go along. Come, Ellery, it's a superb day. I feel
like the bursting buds. Let's get out."

"My dear Dick," said Norris, "the trouble with you is that you never
want to do anything; you always want to do something else. I begin to
think that there are compensations to a man in having fate hold his nose
to the grindstone. He learns persistence, willy-nilly."

"Stop your growling. Up, William, up, and quit your galley-proof. I am
willing to bet that my flashes in the pan will do things before I am
through."

"I dare swear they will get way ahead of my grubbing," Ellery rejoined,
slamming his desk. "Come, I'll go with you."

On the southern outskirts of the city lay a park where art had done no
more than retouch nature. Here a placid stream suddenly transformed
itself into an imposing waterfall, plunging with roars over a rocky
cliff, and sending its spray whirling high in air to paint a hundred
illusive rainbows amid outstretching tree-branches or against a somber
background of stone.

Dick left his motor near the brink of the cliff above the