"I thought he might have been polite enough to say good bye," said Dorothy. "Perhaps it was easier to write it." "Read it," cried Elaine, her eyes dancing. "Please do!" So Dick read as follows: All happy times must reach an end Sometime, someday, somewhere, A great soul seldom has a friend Anyway or anywhere. But one devoted to the Ideal Must pass these things all by, His eyes fixed ever on his Art, Which lives, though he must die. Amid the tide of cruel greed Which laps upon our shore, No one takes thought of the poet's need Nor how his griefs may pour Upon his poor, devoted head And his sad, troubled heart; But all these things each one must take, Who gives his life to Art. His crust of bread, his tick of straw His enemies deny, And at the last his patron saint Will even pass him by; The wide world is his resting place, All o'er it he may roam, And none will take the poet in, Or offer him a home. The tears of sorrow blind him now, Misunderstood is he, But thus great souls have always been, And always they will be; His eyes fixed ever on the Ideal Will be there till he die, To-night he goes, but leaves a poem To say good bye, good bye! "Poor Mr. Perkins," commented Dorothy, softly. "Yes," mimicked Harlan, "poor Mr. Perkins. I don't see but what he'll have to work now, like any plain, ordinary mortal, with no 'gift'." "What is the Ideal, anyway?" queried Elaine, looking thoughtfully into the embers of the poet's bedstead. "That's easy," answered Dick, not without evident feeling. "It's whatever Mr. Perkins happens to be doing, or trying to do. He fixes it for the rest of us." "I think," suggested Dorothy, after a momentary silence, "that the Ideal consists in minding your own business and gently, but firmly, assisting others to mind theirs." All unknowingly, Dorothy had expressed the dominant idea of the dead master of the house. She fancied that the pictured face over the mantel was about to smile at her. Dorothy and Uncle Ebeneezer understood each other now, and she no longer wished to have the portrait moved. Before they separated for the night, Dick told them all about the midnight gathering in the orchard, which he had witnessed from afar, and which the others enjoyed beyond his expectations.