trod out a dozen ringing measures with no particular effort. "Like that."

"Very well," said Abner, resuming his seat docilely. The rest wondered;
he seldom welcomed suggestions or accepted correction.

"Now let's try it once more," said Medora.

An evening devoted to literature was ending with a bit of music. Abner
and Bond had both read unpublished manuscripts with the fierce joy that
authors feel on such occasions, and the others had listened with patience
if not with pleasure. Abner gave two or three of the newest chapters of
_Regeneration_, and Bond read a few pages to show what progress an alien
romanticist was making in homely fields nearer at hand. He had hoped for
Abner's encouragement and approval in this new venture of his, but he got
neither.

"The way to write about cows in a pasture," commented Abner, "is just to
write about them--in a simple, straightforward style without any slant
toward history or mythology, and without any cross-references to remote
scenes of foreign travel. For instance, you speak of a Ranz----"

"Ranz des Vaches," said Medora: "a sort of thing the Alpine
what's-his-name sings."

"It's for atmosphere," said Bond, on the defensive.

"Let the pasture furnish its own atmosphere. And you had something about
a certain breed of cattle near Rome--Rome, was it?"

"Roman Campagna. Travel reminiscences."