"There's no such thing as silence," he said positively. "I can hear
twenty different sounds on a night like this without counting your
voices."

"Make a bet of it?" said Charlotte.

"Done," said Mr. Erskine. "One, the sea; two, the wind; three, a dog;
four ..."

The others passed on.

"Poor Timothy," said Elsbeth.

"A very fine night," shouted Miss Eliot into Mr. Clutterbuck's ear.

"Like to look at the stars?" said the old man, turning the telescope
towards Elsbeth.

"Doesn't it make you melancholy--looking at the stars?" shouted Miss
Eliot.

"Dear me no, dear me no," Mr. Clutterbuck chuckled when he understood
her. "Why should it make me melancholy? Not for a moment--dear me no."

"Thank you, Timothy, but I'm coming in," said Miss Eliot. "Elsbeth,
here's a shawl."

"I'm coming in," Elsbeth murmured with her eye to the telescope.
"Cassiopeia," she murmured. "Where are you all?" she asked, taking her
eye away from the telescope. "How dark it is!"