there is only health as against sickness, wealth as against
poverty; and age or youth as the outcome of the lot one draws.

At this point in his narrative Granice stood up, and went to lean
against the mantel-piece, looking down at Ascham, who had not
moved from his seat, or changed his attitude of rigid fascinated
attention.

"Then came the summer when we went to Wrenfield to be near old
Lenman--my mother's cousin, as you know. Some of the family
always mounted guard over him--generally a niece or so. But that
year they were all scattered, and one of the nieces offered to
lend us her cottage if we'd relieve her of duty for two months.
It was a nuisance for me, of course, for Wrenfield is two hours
from town; but my mother, who was a slave to family observances,
had always been good to the old man, so it was natural we should
be called on--and there was the saving of rent and the good air
for Kate. So we went.

"You never knew Joseph Lenman? Well, picture to yourself an
amoeba or some primitive organism of that sort, under a Titan's
microscope. He was large, undifferentiated, inert--since I could
remember him he had done nothing but take his temperature and
read the Churchman. Oh, and cultivate melons--that was his
hobby. Not vulgar, out-of-door melons--his were grown under
glass. He had miles of it at Wrenfield--his big kitchen-garden
was surrounded by blinking battalions of green-houses. And in
nearly all of them melons were grown--early melons and late,
French, English, domestic--dwarf melons and monsters: every
shape, colour and variety. They were petted and nursed like