"Man is not expected to understand woman, my dear Buttons. At the casino last night everything was as gay as an octogenarian's birthday cake." He stopped in the shadow of the house and seized my arm. "You told her something about me last night. She was all right until you took her away and talked with her at the casino. On the way home she was moody and queer--a different girl altogether. You are not on the square; you are playing on too many sides of this game." "You're in love, that's all. These suspicions and apprehensions are leading symptoms. Up there at the casino, with the water washing beneath and the stars overhead and the band playing waltzes, a spell was upon you both. Even a hardened old sinner like me could feel it. I've had palpitations all day! Cheer up! In your own happy phrase, everything points to plus." "I tell you she turned on me, and that you are responsible for it!"--and he glared at me angrily. "Now, Buttons! You're not going to take that attitude toward me, after all I have done for you! I really took some trouble to arrange that little meeting last night; and here you come with sad eye and mournful voice and rebuke me!" "I tell you she was different. She had never been so kind to me as she was there at the casino; but as we came back she changed, and was ready to fling me aside. I asked her to leave this place and marry me to-day, and she only laughed at me!" "Now, Buttons, you are letting your imagination get the better of your common sense. If you're going to take your lady's moods so hard you'd better give up trying to understand the ways of woman. It's wholly possible that Helen was tired and didn't want to be made love to. It seems to me that you are singularly lacking in consideration. But I can't talk to you all morning; I have other things to do; but if you will find a cool corner of the house and look at picture-books until I'm free I'll promise to be best man for you when you're married; and I predict your marriage before Christmas--a happy union of the ancient houses of Holbrook and Gillespie. Run along like a good boy and don't let Miss Pat catch sight of you." "Do you keep a goat, a donkey or a mule--any of the more ruminative animals?" he asked with his saddest intonation. "The cook keeps a parrot, and there's a donkey in one of the pastures." "Good. Are his powers of vocalization unimpaired?" "First rate. I occasionally hear his vesper hymn. He's in good voice." "Then I may speak to him, soul to soul, if I find that I bore myself."