_Bartlett._--"Shall you like me better at that distance?" _Constance._--"I can't let you make a joke of our liking for you." _Bartlett._--"You defend me, even in my presence. What kindness I must miss when I'm absent! Well, I will go and see what interests General Wyatt." _General Wyatt._--"Madame Le May? Yes, certainly. Remember her perfectly. False hair, false teeth, false"-- _Constance._--"Why, what _are_ you talking of, papa?" _General Wyatt._--"Mayo. Capital cavalry officer--cutting down the pay of such a man"-- _Constance._--"What _are_ you reading?" The General makes no answer. _Bartlett._--"Don't disturb him. I'll walk off here at this end of the room." He paces softly up and down, while Constance returns to her drawing, to which she diligently applies herself. A thought seems to strike Bartlett as his wandering eye falls upon General Wyatt, who still sits with his head buried in his newspaper. He approaches, and remarks in a low tone: "I believe I _will_ take a cigar _now_, Gen--" The newspaper falls slightly, and Bartlett makes a discovery. The General has dropped off into a doze. With a gesture of amusement, Bartlett restores the paper to its place, and resumes his walk in a quiet rapture, interrupting it now and then to dwell in silent adoration on the young lady's absorption in the fine arts. _Constance._--"Mr. Bartlett"-- _Bartlett_, halting.--"Recalled from exile already? Well?" _Constance._--"I'm afraid I can't get by this point alone." _Bartlett._--"Yes? Let's see it." He eagerly crosses the room, takes his stand behind her, and throws up his hands in despair. Constance indicates her difficulties. _Constance._--"The question is how to get in some idea of those slopes of the mountain. These things seem to crowd everything out." _Bartlett_, hopelessly regarding the work.--"I see. You have been composing a little,--idealising. Well, I don't object to that. Though perhaps it had better come later. This long stretch of rocky cliff"-- _Constance._--"Rocky cliff?" _Bartlett._--"Isn't in nature, but it might have a good effect if properly utilised"-- _Constance._--"But it isn't rocky cliff, Mr. Bartlett. It's"-- _Bartlett_, looking a second time, and more closely.--"Why, of course! It's that stretch of broken woodland at the foot of the mountain. Very good; very good indeed; very boldly treated. Still, I should say"-- _Constance_, in desperation.--"Oh, Mr. Bartlett, it _isn't_ rocks, and it isn't _woods_; it's--_hay-stacks_!" _Bartlett._--"Hay-stacks?" _Constance_, desolately.--"Yes, hay-stacks." _Bartlett._--"But hay-stacks at the foot of the mountain, Miss Wyatt"-- _Constance_, inconsolably.--"They're _not_ at the foot of the mountain. They're those hay-stacks, just out there in the meadow. I thought it would be nice to have them in near that clump of birches you drew."