“I can’t tell you. The fact is, I forgot to wind it last night. Why should I wind it, anyhow? What does it matter what time it is in this place? If the sun is there, I know it’s morning; if it’s somewhere overhead, I know it’s noon; when it drops behind the trees, I know it’s evening; when it disappears, I know it’s night――and I go to sleep. Watches and clocks are anachronisms here. Like arctics and fur overcoats.” “I shall go and find out,” said Holly, rising. “Why waste time and effort in the pursuit of unprofitable knowledge?” sighed Winthrop. But he received no answer, for his companion was already making her way through the garden. Winthrop laid his head back against the tree and, with half-closed eyes, smiled lazily and contentedly up into the brown-and-green leafage above. And as he did so a thought came to him, a most ridiculous, inappropriate thought, a veritable serpent-in-Eden thought; he wondered what “A. S. common” was selling for! He drove the thought away angrily. What nonsense! If he wasn’t careful he’d find himself trying to remember the amount of his balance in bank! Odd what absurd turns the mind was capable of! Well, the only way to keep his mind away from idle speculation was to turn his thoughts toward serious and profitable subjects. So he wondered why the magnolia leaves were covered with green satin on top and tan velvet beneath. But before he had arrived at any conclusion Holly came back, bearing a glass containing a milky-white liquid and a silver spoon. [Illustration] “It’s past the time,” she said. “Then you shouldn’t have bothered to bring it,” answered Winthrop, regretfully. “But never mind; we’ll try and remember it at supper time.” “But you must take it now,” persisted Holly, firmly. “But I fear it wouldn’t do any good. You see, your Aunt said distinctly an hour before meals. The psychological moment has passed, greatly to my rel――regret.” “Please!” said Holly, holding the glass toward him. “You know it’s doing you heaps of good.” “Yes, but that’s just it, don’t you see, Miss Holly? If I continue to take it I’ll be quite well in no time, and that would never do. Would you deprive your Aunt of the pleasure she is now enjoying of dosing me thrice a day with the most nauseous mixture that was ever invented?” “Shucks! It isn’t so terribly bad,” laughed Holly. Winthrop observed her sternly. “Have you sampled it, may I ask?” Holly shook her head. “Then please do so. It will do you lots of good, besides preventing you from making any more well-meant but inaccurate remarks. And you have been looking a bit pale the last day or two, Miss Holly.” Holly viewed the mixture dubiously, hesitatingly. “Besides, you said ‘Shucks,’ and you owe yourself punishment.” “Well――――” Holly swallowed a spoonful, tried not to shiver, and absolutely succeeded in smiling brightly afterwards. “Well?” asked Winthrop, anxiously. “I――I think it has calomel in it,” said Holly.