Eve, who put the idea forward as the fitting climax
of a memorable day, as perhaps did Father Adam, though she it was who
ran the garden's resources through, and decided which to choose. The
talk had ranged from Sherry's and Delmonico's to Chinatown and the
Ghetto, when Mrs. Hilliard recollected a place ideally suited to the
occasion.

"It's on Riverside Drive, and overlooks the Hudson," she explained.
"I've heard Ruth Temple speak of it, though I can't remember the name.
The driver will know; it's historic."

The driver did know, and whipped them smartly out of a park exit where
the heights fell abruptly away and the elevated railroad far overhead
twisted a wriggling S into Harlem's sixth story. Then the land again
rose sheer on gray curtains of masonry, splashed red with October ivy,
lifting city on city. A cathedral's beginnings, looking a ruin, now
cut sharply against the sky, neighboring a hospital with the facade of
a chateau. Then they skirted a pink and gray university grouped about
a dome, and a great man's tomb which might have been a Titan's
pepper-box, flourishing presently between files of waiting hansoms and
automobiles to their destination.

The restaurant was crowded, but they luckily succeeded to a just
vacated table by a northern window which swept the valley. A sunset of
myriad tints and opalescent fires made molten copper of the river and a
carnival float of every craft.

"We have it clear to-night," said their waiter, as if the establishment
somehow deserved the credit. "You'd not think that big cliff to the
left was opposite Yonkers. That's Fort Washington nearer on the right.
A fight came off there up on the heights, you know. Washington had to
look on from the Palisades and see the Hessians bayonet his troops.
They say he wept."

Mrs. Hilliard considered him through her lorgnon, but the man was busy
with the napery and escaped punishment.

"The house is pretty famous, too," he went on. "Joseph Bonaparte lived
here for a while, you know, and when Fulton tried his steamboat--"

"Yes," interrupted Mrs. Hilliard, icily, "we know."

"Beg pardon," returned the servant, taking the order slip. "Out of
town people generally like to be told."

"It's no use, Cora," rallied Shelby, at the first opportunity. "You're
handicapped. You'll never pass for a native while I'm along." He
divined that she was vexed, and shifted instantly. "Thank you for
bringing me here. After this day of ou