n by another
philosopher, a friend of this philosopher's; it bristled with
fallacies, and this philosopher was discovering them all, and noting
them on the fly-leaf at the end. He was not going to review the book
(as some might have thought from his behavior), or even to answer it in
a work of his own. It was just that he found a pleasure in stripping
any poor fallacy naked and crucifying it. Presently a girl in a white
frock came into the orchard. She picked up an apple, bit it, and found
it ripe. Holding it in her hand, she walked up to where the philosopher
sat, and looked at him. He did not stir. She took a bite out of the
apple, munched it, and swallowed it. The philosopher crucified a
fallacy on the fly-leaf. The girl flung the apple away.

"Mr. Jerningham," said she, "are you very busy?"

The philosopher, pencil in hand, looked up.

"No, Miss May," said he, "not very."

"Because I want your opinion."

"In one moment," said the philosopher, apologetically.

He turned back to the fly-leaf and began to nail the last fallacy a
little tighter to the cross. The girl regarded him, first with amused
impatience, then with a vexed frown, finally with a wistful regret. He
was so very old for his age, she thought; he could not be much beyond
thirty; his hair was thick and full of waves, his eyes bright and
clear, his complexion not yet divested of all youth's relics.

"Now, Miss May, I'm at your service," said the philosopher, with a
lingering look at his impaled fallacy; and he closed the book, keeping
it, however, on his knee.

The girl sat down just opposite to him.

"It's a very important thing I want to ask you," she began, tugging at
a tuft of grass, "and it's very--difficult, and you mustn't tell any
one I asked you; at least, I'd rather you didn't."

"I shall not speak of it; indeed, I shall probably not remember it,"
said the philosopher.

"And you mustn't look at me, please, while I'm asking you."

"I don't think I was looking at you, but if I was I beg your pardon,"
said the philosopher, apologetically.

She pulled the tuft of grass right out of the ground, and flung it from
her with all her force.

"Suppose a man--" she began. "No, that's not right."

"You can take any hypothesis you please," observed the philosopher,
"but you must verify it afterward, of course."

"Oh, do let me go on. Suppose a girl, Mr. Jerningham--I wish you
wouldn't nod."

"It was only to show that I followed you."

"