had spent all her ingenuity,
smoked his pipe in the Morris chair, and then read the paper till the
sudden contact of his chin with his chest and Dolly's amused warning sent
him off to bed. A very moral, regular, exemplary existence. Dolly was
very happy.

And then, just as this couple could see the track clear ahead,
stretching smooth and nickel-plated to infinity, an ugly complication
began to worm itself into the serenity of their lives.

This complication arose from the fact that the suppressed wings of
Charles-Norton began to grow faster. Each day, now, Charles-Norton,
returning home, brought with him to Dolly a task more serious and
considerable. She had long ago discarded the little scissors and used
special shears made to cut heavy cardboard; and she finished off with a
safety razor.

The result of this increase in the rate of winged growth was that,
whereas Charles-Norton every morning left home placid and docile, his
character gradually changed during the day. Starting at his work in the
spirit of a blind horse at the mill, by ten o'clock he was apt to find
himself, pen-holder in mouth, nose up in the air, following the
evolutions of a buzzing flylet. By eleven o'clock, the cage had become
very stuffy; spasmodic intakes swelled his chest, ghost longings stirred
within him. When he got out at 12.30 the sun seemed to pour right through
his skin, into the drab chamber of his soul, gilding it. He hurried over
his macaroon tart and cup of coffee, and then had three-quarters of an
hour left to idle in the square.

He prepared for this gravely, as for a ceremony; first by buying a
Pippin. A slender, light-brown Pippin, scientifically sprinkled with
golden freckles, for five cents. (A daily Pippin was a recognized item of
the family budget; at one time Charles Norton had carried his pipe with
him, but Dolly, noticing the doubtful fragrance given by said pipe to the
clothes of Charles-Norton, had insisted upon the extravagance of the
daily Pippin). Having bought the Pippin, Charles-Norton did not light it
right away. Oh, no. He ambled first to the square. He selected his bench
carefully--one upon which the sun shone, but shone with a light filtered
by the leaves of a low-branching elm. He sat down; he stretched his legs
straight before him. Then slowly, with deliberation of movement, he
scratched a match. He brought the spluttering end near his nose. The
Pippin began to send forth effluvia, an exquisite vapor, faint