roken,
and it is a sense of the fit rather than of the supernatural that equips
such crises with the salvos of angelic artillery. Mr. Beebe's eyes
rested on Windy Corner, where Lucy sat, practising Mozart. No smile came
to his lips, and, changing the subject again, he said: "We shan't have
rain, but we shall have darkness, so let us hurry on. The darkness last
night was appalling."

They reached the Beehive Tavern at about five o'clock. That amiable
hostelry possesses a verandah, in which the young and the unwise do
dearly love to sit, while guests of more mature years seek a pleasant
sanded room, and have tea at a table comfortably. Mr. Beebe saw that
Miss Bartlett would be cold if she sat out, and that Minnie would be
dull if she sat in, so he proposed a division of forces. They would hand
the child her food through the window. Thus he was incidentally enabled
to discuss the fortunes of Lucy.

"I have been thinking, Miss Bartlett," he said, "and, unless you
very much object, I would like to reopen that discussion." She bowed.
"Nothing about the past. I know little and care less about that; I am
absolutely certain that it is to your cousin's credit. She has acted
loftily and rightly, and it is like her gentle modesty to say that we
think too highly of her. But the future. Seriously, what do you think of
this Greek plan?" He pulled out the letter again. "I don't know whether
you overheard, but she wants to join the Miss Alans in their mad career.
It's all--I can't explain--it's wrong."

Miss Bartlett read the letter in silence, laid it down, seemed to
hesitate, and then read it again.

"I can't see the point of it myself."

To his astonishment, she replied: "There I cannot agree with you. In it
I spy Lucy's salvation."

"Really. Now, why?"

"She wanted to leave Windy Corner."

"I know--but it seems so odd, so unlike her, so--I was going to
say--selfish."

"It is natural, surely--after such painful scenes--that she should
desire a change."

Here, apparently, was one of those points that the male intellect
misses. Mr. Beebe exclaimed: "So she says herself, and since another
lady agrees with her, I must own that I am partially convinced. Perhaps
she must have a change. I have no sisters or--and I don't understand
these things. But why need she go as far as Greece?"

"You may well ask that," replied Miss Bartlett, who was evidently
interested, and had almost dropped her evasive manner. "Why Greece?
(What is