ignoring his last remark.

"On a breezy hill-side. It's a kind of beauty, too, that one can
enjoy without paying numberless bills for its enhancement. I refer
to that of the scenery."

"Oh," remarked Mrs. Mayhew, indifferently; "it would have been
more to your credit if you had gone to church instead of tramping
around the fields."

"I think the fields have done more for me than church for you."

"Why so?" was the sharp response.

"They have at least kept me from indulging in one bad habit. I am
sober."

"They do not keep you from making ill-natured remarks," said Mrs.
Mayhew, sailing out of the room fully bedizened for the solemnity
of dinner.

"You say you were 'shown' all this beauty," remarked Ida, who was
giving the finishing touches to her toilet before a large mirror,
and by whom the frequent bickerings of her parents were scarcely
noted. "Who officiated as showman?"

"A man who understands the beauties of a landscape so well that he
could make them visible even to my dim eyes, and attractive to my
deadened and besotted nature. I'd give all the world if I could
be young, strong, and hopeful like him, again. It was good of