Hat and cane in hand and carrying under his arm the three old magazines which he contemplated from time to time so earnestly, Utterly ascended the steps of the Lister porch. There, in mid-afternoon, Dr. Lister sat alone, the dinner guests having departed to join the general exodus on the five-o'clock train. Mrs. Lister had gone upstairs to change her black dress for one of lighter weight, and now sat quietly and happily beside her window. Such periods of unhappiness as she had lived through that morning were followed by spaces of calm when a crust seemed to form over the grief which could still burn so fiercely. The house was very still; the only movement indoors was that of the thin curtains swaying gently in the summer air. Hearing a strange voice on the porch, she made haste to complete her change of apparel. She was as punctilious in the small relations of life as she was in its more important principles. Perhaps the visitor did not wish to see her; if he lingered she would go quietly down into the hall and find out. Dr. Lister had seen Utterly and had wondered who he was. Now, saying to himself that Waltonville was seldom glorified by so well-clad a figure, he rose to meet his guest. Dr. Lister loved Greek and taught his boys and girls faithfully, but without much enthusiasm for their capabilities or possibilities. His mind was more intently occupied with the affairs of the great world which seemed to lie so far away, with prospective changes in the English cabinet, with ominous stirrings in the East. It seemed to him at the first glance that his guest belonged to that interesting outer world. "This is Dr. Lister?" Utterly saw the eager eyes. Here was a man! "I am Mr. Utterly of 'Willard's Magazine.' Can you spare me a few moments of your time?" Dr. Lister motioned the stranger to one of the comfortable chairs. He had been thinking of a few minutes' sleep before supper, but he gave it up willingly and even eagerly in the prospect of a talk with this keen stranger. "My vacation began at noon, sir. I shall be glad to give you all the time you wish." Utterly sat with the magazines in his hand. This Waltonville, he said, was charming. "A New Yorker would find it rather dull," answered Dr. Lister. "There would be compensation here for anything New York could offer," said Utterly, without meaning it in the least. "This peaceful Attic flavor"--with a gesture toward the green trees and the smooth lawn and Dr. Lister's canna beds--"makes one feel that after all some persons and some places do arrive at serenity. We never do in New York. We don't know what serenity is." Then Utterly descended from the pedestal upon which Dr. Lister had for the moment established him. He added a "don't you know" to his sentence. "We don't know what serenity is, don't you know." The phrase was still not common property in America, but it offended Dr. Lister's ear.