"I'm glad I'm not running a church fair," laughed Barbara. "And who told
you that heathen are happier than we are? Are you a heathen?"

"I don't know. Most of us are, I suppose, in one way or another. But how
nice it would be if we could paint ourselves instead of wearing clothes,
and go under a tree when it rained, and pick cocoanuts or bananas when
we were hungry. It would save so much trouble and expense."

"Paint is sticky," observed Barbara, "and the rain would come around the
tree when the wind was blowing from all ways at once, as it does
sometimes, and I do not like either cocoanuts or bananas. I'd rather
sew. What went wrong to-day?" she asked, with a whimsical smile.
"Everything?"

"Almost," admitted Roger. "How did you know?"

[Sidenote: Unfailing Barometer]

"Because you want to be a heathen instead of the foremost lawyer of your
time. Your ambition is an unfailing barometer."

He laughed lightly. This sort of banter was very pleasing to him after a
day with the law books and an hour or more with his mother. He had known
Barbara since they were children and their comradeship dated back to
the mud-pie days.

"I don't know but what you're right," he said. "Whether I go to Congress
or the Fiji Islands may depend, eventually, upon Judge Bascom's liver."

"Don't let it depend upon him," cautioned Barbara. "Make your own