He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."

"She has many lovely qualities----" I began.

"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that
makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----"

The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall,
above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his
bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a
minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive
for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.

"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.

* * * * *

I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely
qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have,
which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has
a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on which I do not think the
marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to
this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for
the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling
irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt
that she would like that room quite as well.