"Yes, my darling daughter.
Hang your clothes on a hickory limb,
But don't go near the water."

However, in my confusion I warmly regretted my failure to follow it, and
resolved not to blunder again.

Mr. Dowden thanked me for the information for which he had no real
desire, and, the elderly ladies again taking up (with all too evident
relief) their various mild debates, he inquired if I played bridge. "But
I forget," he added. "Of course you'll be at the 'Despatch' office in
the evenings, and can't be here." After which he immediately began to
question me about my work, making his determination to give me no
opportunity again to mention the Honorable David Beasley unnecessarily
conspicuous, as I thought.

I could only conclude that some unpleasantness had arisen between
himself and Beasley, probably of political origin, since they were both
in politics, and of personal (and consequently bitter) development; and
that Mr. Dowden found the mention of Beasley not only unpleasant to
himself but a possible embarrassment to the ladies (who, I supposed,
were aware of the quarrel) on his account.

After lunch, not having to report at the office immediately, I took unto
myself the solace of a cigar, which kept me company during a stroll
about Mrs. Apperthwaite's capacious yard. In the rear I found an
old-fashioned rose-garden--the bushes long since bloomless and now
brown with autumn--and I paced its gravelled paths up and down, at the
same time favoring Mr. Beasley's house with a covert study that would