"I think your method, Mr. Desmond," said the Chemist, "must be some
power you have found of concentrating all the rays of a pencil of light,
disposing in some way of their heating power. I should like to know if
this is a fluid agent or some solid substance."

"I should like to see," interrupted another gentleman, "the anvil where
Mr. Desmond forges his beams. Could not we get up a party, Miss Stuart,
an evening-party, to see a little bit of sunlight struck out,--on a
moonshiny night, too?"

"In my lectures on chemistry," began Mr. Jasper. He was interrupted by
Mr. Stuart.

"You will have to write your lectures over again. Mr. Desmond has
introduced such new ideas upon chemistry that he will give you a chance
for a new course."

"You forget," said the Chemist, "that the laws of science are the same
and immutable. My lectures, having once been written, are written. I
only see that Mr. Desmond has developed theories which I have myself
laid down. As our friend the Artist will tell us, sunlight is sunlight,
wherever you find it, whether you catch it on a carpet or on a
lady's face."

"But I am quite ashamed," said Miss Stuart, "that we ladies so seldom
have the sunlight on our faces. I think we might agree to Mr. Green's
proposal to go out somewhere and see where the sunbeams really are made.
We shut them out with our curtains, and turn night into a
make-believe day."