glow-worms that flit about in ruinous places. I 'll be with you in a
few moments."

Even from the room beyond he continued the conversation in his own odd
manner, passing to antipodal subjects by paths of association beyond
the guess of an imagination less vagrant than his own. With Cardington
conversation was a fine art. He loved the adequate or picturesque word
as a miner loves an ingot of gold, yet he was able to display his
linguistic stores without incurring the charge of pedantry, much as
certain women can carry without offence clothes that would smother a
more insignificant personality.

"We still have a few minutes to spare," he announced, when he presently
reappeared. "Now, which will you have, a Roman Catholic, or an
Episcopalian, or a Presbyterian beverage,--Benedictine, port wine, or
whiskey?"

Leigh's mood expanded in response to the hospitality. Here was a
little fling of the spirit of which he stood in need, a promise of
comradeship that was all the more welcome from the fact that his other
colleagues had kept him waiting in the vestibule of their regard.

"I'll drink your health in a little whiskey," he replied with alacrity.

"Quite right," Cardington commented, producing a bottle of Scotch. "I
hope you 'll find that this has the true Calvinistic flavour. And
here's to you likewise. May you yet discover the length, the depth,
and the uses of all the canals of Mars." Over the rim of his glass his
eyes began to brighten in a manner which his guest already knew to be a
prophecy of something good. "That was an excellent jest of the