youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not
made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means
what is known as a "beauty."

"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this
summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no
doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his
hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either--except Dahlia. I can't stand
her," he added resentfully.

The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who
could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic removed his pipe from his
mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by
Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women
behind their backs.

"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has
surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out
on the river with you--and helped you make kites, and rigged little
ships for you----"

"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me--when she can't get
a man!"

The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently.
Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly
removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch
step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I
shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after
some small puppies down there in the hay.