weren't for the dippers,--not sure of them as it is. There's the North
Star over there. Suppose your grandfather knows 'em all."

"I think he does," replied Sylvia. "He still lectures about them
sometimes."

"Wonder what that is, just across the farthest tip of that maple? It's
familiar, but I can't name it."

"That," said Sylvia, "is Cassiopeia."

"So? How many constellations do you know?"

Sylvia was silent a moment. She was not sure that it was polite to
disclose her knowledge of the subject to a man who had just confessed
his ignorance. She decided that anything beyond the most modest
admission would be unbecoming.

"I know several, or I think I do. This is June. That's the North Star
over the point of that tree, as you said, and above it is Ursa Minor,
and winding in and out between it and the Big Dipper is Draco. Then to
the east, higher up, are Cygnus, Lyra, and Aquila. And in the west--"

She paused, feeling that she had satisfied the amenities of conversation
with this gentleman who had so frankly stated his lack of knowledge.

Ware struck his knee with his hand and chuckled.

"I should say you do know a few! You've mentioned some I've always
wanted to get acquainted with. Now go back to Cygnus, the Swan. I like