of this purely literary circle, where ideas and
scholarship were recognized and crowned.

Mr. Spence and Mr Barr sat on either side of Miss Kingsley, and I
glanced from the one to the other, debating with myself whether I
preferred the bold strong beauty of the artist, or the subtile and more
delicate traits of feature of the philosopher. For though I had begun by
regarding Mr. Spence almost as commonplace in appearance, the
earnestness of his manner and the serious fervor of his eyes gave him an
expression of having a deep and genuine belief in his own theories,
which when compared with the impetuous but more volatile air of Paul
Barr commended him to my respect and admiration even while I was
flattered by the gallantries of his rival.

It was Mr. Barr who first broke the silence after we sat down to table,
by asking me if I had not passed the summer at Tinker's Reach. As he
spoke in the ordinary guise, I was surprised until it occurred to me
that as a member of another school he could hardly be expected, even
from courtesy or friendship, to practise doctrines to which he could not
subscribe.

"Yes," said I.

"Malaria," began Mr. Spence.

There was a little murmur of expectation, and Mr. Fleisch brimming over
with excitement said, "Bad drainage."

"No excuse. Sea near. Inhabitants should agitate question," continued
Mr. Spence.

"Everybody appearance of health notwithstanding," exclaimed Miss
Kingsley.

"Overmuch ozone," said Mr. Spence.

"Unhealthy stimulus. Reaction later," added the little German.

"Are we clear? Air of Tinker's Reach you know; so clever," whispered
Miss Kingsley leaning toward me behind Mr. Spence's chair. "Sure I shall
break down."

I nodded to give her encouragement. All this was somewhat bewildering,
but I was able to follow the conversation. I was conscious too of Mr.
Barr's eyes fixed upon me with intensity. He would eat hurriedly for a
moment, and then fold his arms and listen with his brow almost buried
in his black bristly beard, and his glance centred on me.

The talk went on briskly. Mrs. Marsh presently joined in; and after the
discussion of the atmospheric conditions of Tinker's Reach was
exhausted, a criticism of a recent volume of poetry followed, in which
Mr. Fleisch and Mrs. Marsh took sides against the other two. At times I
lost the thread of the argument, but for the most part I understood them
perfectly. Mr. Spence was by far the most proficient. It was wonderful