declared, with bulging eyes.

They unfortunately did not perish with the fort, for Richard doesn't like
them; but are now huddled in a group under the old Christmas tree, where
Lark is barking at them.

* * * * *

I started to record our visit to Lavinia Dorman, but my "human
documents," printed on vellum, came between, and I would not miss a word
they have to say for the "Mechlinia Albertus Magnus," which father says
is the rarest book in the world, though Evan disputes his preference, and
Martin Cortright would doubtless prefer the first edition of Denton's
"New York."

In past times, when we have visited Miss Lavinia, we have been fairly
meek and decorous guests, following the programme that she planned with
such infinite attention to detail that free will was impossible, and we
often felt like paper dolls.

We had read her lament on the death of sociability and back yards with
many a smile, and a sigh also, for to one born in the pool, every ripple
that stirs it must be of importance, and it is impossible for outsiders
to urge her to step out of the eddies altogether and begin anew, for New
Yorkitis seems to be not only a rarely curable disease to those who have
it, but an hereditary one as well.

As usual, Evan came to the rescue, as we sat in the den the night before
our departure. "Let us turn tables on Miss Lavinia this time and take her
to see our New York," he said, "since we are all quite tired of hers. Do