an effect of the sickliest pallor compared to what might
be accomplished by a careful use of the catastrophic Wallie Torbin.

* * * * *

On Sunday evening it was her privileged custom to go to the house of fat
old Great-Uncle Joseph and remain until nine o'clock, in chatty
companionship with Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie, his wife, and a few
other relatives (including Herbert) who were in the habit of dropping in
there, on Sunday evenings. In summer, lemonade and cake were frequently
provided; in the autumn, one still found cake, and perhaps a pitcher of
clear new cider: apples were a certainty.

This evening was glorious: there were apples and cider and cake, with
walnuts, perfectly cracked, and a large open-hearted box of candy; for
Uncle Joseph and Aunt Carrie had foreseen the coming of several more
Atwaters than usual, to talk over the new affairs of their beautiful
relative, Julia. Seldom have any relative's new affairs been more
thoroughly talked over than were Julia's that evening; though all the
time by means of symbols, since it was thought wiser that Herbert and
Florence should not yet be told of Julia's engagement; and Florence's
parents were not present to confess their indiscretion. Julia was
referred to as "the traveller"; other makeshifts were employed with the
most knowing caution, and all the while Florence merely ate inscrutably.
The more sincere Herbert was placid; the foods absorbing his attention.

"Well, all I say is, the traveller better enjoy herself on her travels,"
said Aunt Fanny, finally, as the subject appeared to be wearing toward
exhaustion. "She certainly is in for it when the voyaging is over and
she arrives in the port she sailed from, and has to show her papers. I
agree with the rest of you: she'll have a great deal to answer for, and
most of all about the shortest one. My own opinion is that the shortest
one is going to burst like a balloon."

"The shortest one," as the demure Florence had understood from the
first, was none other than her Very Ideal. Now she looked up from the
stool where she sat with her back against a pilaster of the mantelpiece.
"Uncle Joseph," she said;--"I was just thinking. What is a person's
reason?"

The fat gentleman, rosy with firelight and cider, finished his fifth
glass before responding. "Well, there _are_ persons I never could find
any reason for at all. 'A person's reason'? What do you mean, 'a
person's reason,' Flor