She retreated behind a syringa bush, which completely screened her from view. Up the winding path went the young couple. “It is love,” repeated Mrs. Spring Fragrance, “and it is the ‘Inferior Woman.’” She had heard about the Inferior Woman from the mother of Will Carman. After tea that evening Mrs. Spring Fragrance stood musing at her front window. The sun hovered over the Olympic mountains like a great, golden red-bird with dark purple wings, its long tail of light trailing underneath in the waters of Puget Sound. “How very beautiful!” exclaimed Mrs. Spring Fragrance; then she sighed. “Why do you sigh?” asked Mr. Spring Fragrance. “My heart is sad,” answered his wife. “Is the cat sick?” inquired Mr. Spring Fragrance. Mrs. Spring Fragrance shook her head. “It is not our Wise One who troubles me today,” she replied. “It is our neighbors. The sorrow of the Carman household is that the mother desires for her son the Superior Woman, and his heart enshrines but the Inferior. I have seen them together today, and I know.” “What do you know?” “That the Inferior Woman is the mate for young Carman.” Mr. Spring Fragrance elevated his brows. Only the day before, his wife’s arguments had all been in favor of the Superior Woman. He uttered some words expressive of surprise, to which Mrs. Spring Fragrance retorted: “Yesterday, O Great Man, I was a caterpillar!” Just then young Carman came strolling up the path. Mr. Spring Fragrance opened the door to him. “Come in, neighbor,” said he. “I have received some new books from Shanghai.” “Good,” replied young Carman, who was interested in Chinese literature. While he and Mr. Spring Fragrance discussed the “Odes of Chow” and the “Sorrows of Han,” Mrs. Spring Fragrance, sitting in a low easy-chair of rose-colored silk, covertly studied her visitor’s countenance. Why was his expression so much more grave than gay? It had not been so a year ago—before he had known the Inferior Woman. Mrs. Spring Fragrance noted other changes, also, both in speech and manner. “He is no longer a boy,” mused she. “He is a man, and it is the work of the Inferior Woman.” “And when, Mr. Carman,” she inquired, “will you bring home a daughter to your mother?” “And when, Mrs. Spring Fragrance, do you think I should?” returned the young man. Mrs. Spring Fragrance spread wide her fan and gazed thoughtfully over its silver edge. “The summer moons will soon be over,” said she. “You should not wait until the grass is yellow.”