“I dare you to let me dictate a couple of paragraphs.”

“Done!” cried Philip.  “Go slowly enough that I can write it.”

Elnora laughed gleefully.

“I am writing this,” she began, “in an old grape arbour in the country, near a log cabin where I had my dinner.  From where I sit I can see directly into the home of the next-door neighbour on the west.  His name is R. B. Grosbeak.  From all I have seen of him, he is a gentleman of the old school; the oldest school there is, no doubt.  He always wears a black suit and cap and a white vest, decorated with one large red heart, which I think must be the emblem of some ancient order.  I have been here a number of times, and I never have seen him wear anything else, or his wife appear in other than a brown dress with touches of white.

“It has appealed to me at times that she was a shade neglectful of her home duties, but he does not seem to feel that way.  He cheerfully stays in the sitting-room, while she is away having a good time, and sings while he cares for the four small children.  I must tell you about his music.  I am sure he never saw inside a conservatory.  I think he merely picked up what he knows by ear and without vocal training, but there is a tenderness in his tones, a depth of pure melody, that I never have heard surpassed.  It may be that I think more of his music than that of some other good vocalists hereabout, because I see more of him and appreciate his devotion to his home life.

“I just had an encounter with him at the west fence, and induced him to carry a small gift to his children.  When I see the perfect harmony in which he lives, and the depth of content he and the brown lady find in life, I am almost persuaded to—­ Now this is going to be poetry,” said Elnora.  “Move your pen over here and begin with a quote and a cap.”

Philip’s face had been an interesting study while he wrote her sentences.  Now he gravely set the pen where she indicated, and Elnora dictated—­

     “Buy a nice little home in the country,
     And settle down there for life.”

“That’s the truth!” cried Philip.  “It’s as big a temptation as I ever had.  Go on!”

“That’s all,” said Elnora.  “You can finish.  The moths are done.  I am going hunting for whatever I can find for the grades.”

“Wait a minute,” begged Philip.  “I am going, too.”

“No.  You stay with mother and finish your letter.”

“It is done.  I couldn’t add anything to that.”

“Very well!  Sign your name and come on.  But I forgot to tell you all the bargain.  Maybe you won’t send the letter when you hear that.  The remainder is that you show me the reply to my part of it.”

“Oh, that’s easy!  I wouldn’t have the slightest objection to showing you the whole letter.”

He signed his name, folded the sheets and slipped them into his pocket.

“Where are we going and what do we take?”