"Oh, dear," exclaimed a little boy petulantly, as he strolled through
the hall and looked out at the steady downfall of rain. "Oh dear!
Why can't it stop raining?"

"There's the philosophy of our time for you in a nutshell," said
Van Berg. "When a human atom wants anything, what business has
the universe to stand in its way?"

"But you have no better philosophy to offer the disconsolate little
fellow, Mr. Ban Berg?" Miss Burton asked.

"Now, Van, it's your turn. Remember, Miss Burton, he has the same
vantage-ground that I have. Indeed he's half an inch taller."

"The world long ago learned better than to measure men by inches,
Mr. Stanton."

"Alas, Miss Burton," said Van Berg; "the best philosophy I have is
this: when it rains, let it rain."

"And thus I'm privileged to meet representatives of those two
ancient and honorable schools, the Stoic and Epicurean, and you both
think, I fear, that if Xanthippe had founded a school, my philosophy
would also be defined. But perhaps you will think better of me if
I tell that little fellow a story to pass the time for him. What's
the matter, little folk?" she asked, for two or three more small
clouded faces had gathered at the door.

"Matter enough," said the boy. "This horrid old rain keeps us in