"Why, Eugenics," said Fothy. And then he had to explain all about Eugenics. They sat perfectly still and stared at him, and he felt sure he had them interested at last, and he talked on and on about Eugenics and the Future Race, you know, and that led him back to Trial Marriages, and then he go onto the Twilight Sleep. And, as he said himself afterward, what could be more practical? But, you know, commonplace people never appreciate the efforts that serious thinkers make for them, and Aunt Evelyn refused to come to the table at all when dinner was announced. She said she had lost her appetite and felt faint. But Aunt Emmy came. She asked the blessing. Papa always has her do that on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas and New Year's. And she made a regular prayer out of it -- prayed for Fothy, you know, right before him; and prayed for me too. It was awful. And afterward poor dear Fothy said he wished he had talked about Art. "It's safe," I said; "then people can't get offended, for nobody knows what you mean at all." "Oh," said Fothy, "nobody does?" And he went away quite melancholy and injured. CITRONELLA AND STEGOMYIA WE were talking about famous love affairs the other evening, and Fothergil Finch said he was thinking of writing a ballad about Citronella and Stegomyia. And, of course, everybody pretended they knew who Citronella and Stegomyia were. Mrs. Voke Easeley -- You've heard about Voke Easeley and his New Art, Haven't you? -- Mrs. Voke Easeley said: "But don't you think those old Italian love affairs have been done to death?" "Italian?" said Fothy, raising his eyebrows at Mrs. Voke Easeley. You know, really, there wasn't a one of them knew who Citronella and Stegomyia were; but they were all pretending, and they saw Mrs. Voke Easeley was in bad. And she saw it, too, and tried to save herself. "Of course," she said, "Citronella and Stegomyia weren't Italian lovers THEMSELVES. But so many of the old Italian poets have written about them that I always think of them as glowing stars in that wonderful, wonderful galaxy of Italian romance!" Fothy can be very mean when he wants to. So he said: "I don't read Italian, Mrs. Easeley. I have been forced to get all my information about Citronella and Stegomyia from English writers. Maybe you would be good enough to tell me what Italian poet it is who has turned out the most recent version of Citronella and Stegomyia?" Mrs. Voke Easeley answered without a moment's hesitation: "Why, D'Annunzio, of course." That made everybody waver again. And Aurelia Dart said -- she's that girl with the beautiful arms, you know, who plays the harp and always has a man or two to carry it about wherever she goes -- somebody else's husband, if she can manage it -- Aurelia said: "D'Annunzio, of course! Passages of it have been set to music." "Won't you play some of it?" asked Fothy, very politely.