month of Sundays and trudge afoot to save carfare, if thereby she
might buy an old print, or a bit of pottery; just as I am content to
admire the print or the pottery in the shop window, feeling sure
that when they are finally sold to somebody better able to buy them,
something else I can admire just as much will take their place. Mine
is a philosophy not altogether to be despised, though Alicia rejects
it. She handled the blue-and-white ware with tender hands, laid the
silver together, and set the tray upon the window-ledge. Then, on a
leaf of my pocket memorandum--she never carries one of her own--she
scribbled the following absurdity and pinned it to the linen cover:

Ariel, accept the gratitude of mortals set down hungry in
the house of Sycorax. Gay and kind spirit, when we broke
your bread you broke her spell: the wishbone of your chicken
has cooked her goose! Maker of Music, Donator of Dinners,
thanks!

"And now," said she, "having been serenaded, and satisfied with
nothing short of perfection, let's go up-stairs, Sophy, and decide
where we shall sleep to-night."

We chose the front room because of a gate-legged table that Alicia
wanted to say her prayers beside, and because of the particularly
fine portrait of a colonial gentleman above the mantel, a very
handsome man in claret-colored satin, with a vest of flowered gold
brocade, a gold-hilted sword upon which his fine fingers rested, and
a pair of silk-stockinged legs of which he seemed complacently
aware.

"I wish you weren't dead," Alicia told him regretfully. "Your taste