“Ah! my dear sir,” was the reply, “you have erred in _that_ line of thought, exactly as many others have. The truth is one and the same, to God, man, and devil.” “_Second Question_,” said Dr. Hicok. “Reconcile the development theory, connection of natural selection and sexual relation, with the responsible immortality of the soul.” “Unquestionably,” assented the other, as if to say, “Just as I expected.” “No theory of creation has any logical connection with any doctrine of immortality. What was the motive of creation?--_that_ would be a question! If you had asked me _that_! But the question, ‘Where did men come from?’ has no bearing on the question, ‘Have they any duties now that they are here?’ The two are reconciled, because they do not differ. You can’t state any inconsistency between a yard measure and a fifty-six pound weight.” The doctor nodded; he sat down; he took a glass of water, and pressed his hand to his heart. “Now, then,” he said to himself, “once more! If I have to stand this fifteen minutes I shall be in _some_ other world!” The door from the inner room opened; and Mrs. Hicok came singing in, carrying balanced upon her pretty pink fore-finger something or other of an airy bouquet-like fabric. Upon this she was looking with much delight. “See, dear!” she said: “how perfectly lovely!” Both gentlemen started, and the lady started too. She had not known of the visit; and she had not, until this instant, seen that her husband was not alone. Dr. Hicok, of course, had never given her the key to his skeleton-closet; for he was a shrewd man. He loved her too; and he thought he had provided for her absence during the ordeal. She had executed her shopping with unprecedented speed. Why the visitor started, would be difficult to say. Perhaps her voice startled him. The happy music in it was enough like a beautified duplicate of his own thrilling sweet tones, to have made him acknowledge her for a sister--from heaven. He started, at any rate. “Mr. Lyon, my wife,” said the doctor, somewhat at a loss. Mr. Lyon bowed, and so did the lady. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I am sure,” she said. “I did not know you were busy, dear. There is a thunder-shower coming up. I drove home just in season.” “Oh!--only a little wager, about some conundrums,” said the doctor. Perhaps he may be excused for his fib. He did not want to annoy her unnecessarily. “Oh, do let me know!” she said, with much eagerness. “You know how I enjoy them!” “Well,” said the doctor, “not exactly the ordinary kind. I was to puzzle my friend here with one out of three questions; and he has beaten me in two of them already. I’ve but one more chance.” “Only one?” she asked, with a smile. “What a bright man your friend must be! I thought nobody could puzzle you, dear. Stay; let _me_ ask the other question.” Both the gentlemen started again: it was quite a surprise. “But are you a married man, Mr. Lyon?” she asked, with a blush.