restlessly up and down the long veranda in earnest conversation with the bishop and his wife.

The two in the garden could not understand what was being said at the house, but each party could hear the voices of the other, and by calling out a little could easily converse across the dividing hedge and the intervening space.

“Talk about the influence of the beautiful in nature upon the human soul, — it is all very pretty, but I believe the soul must be more or less enlightened to feel it. I’ve learned a few things among your people up there in the mountains. Strange beings they are.”

“It only goes to show that heredity alone won’t do everything,” said the bishop, placing the tips of his fingers together and frowning meditatively.