staircase and I followed--"don't you think we'd better move the
Philosopher in to-morrow?"

"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different.
Please reserve your judgment."

I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until
the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where
five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over
upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink
adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the bed showed
plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter
writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best
towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not
help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall.

* * * * *

At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to
her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door
interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a
bushel-basket.

"Want some help?" offered he.

"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly.

"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the
hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I
couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of