copy what I'd seen, I wasn't wise to the inside difference--the things that make the best what it is, I mean--because I'd never been close enough to find out that there's more to it than looks and duds and manners. It took the Parish House people to soak that into me. People aren't anything but people--but the best are--well, different." We fell silent; a happy silence, into which, as from another planet, there drifted light laughter, and sweet gay voices of girls, and the stir and rustle of many people moving about. On the Mayne fence the judge's black Panch sat, neck outstretched, emerald eyes aslant, ears cocked uneasily at these unwonted noises. At a little distance a bluejay watched him with bright malevolent eyes, every now and then screaming insults at the whole tribe of cats, and black Panch in particular. Flint snapped his fingers, and Panch, with a spring, was off the fence and on his friend's knees. It seemed to me it had only needed the sleek beastie to make that hour perfect;--for cats in the highest degree make for a sense of homely, friendly intimacy. Flint, feeling this, stroked the black head contentedly. Panch purred for the three of us. Into this presently broke Miss Sally Ruth Dexter, and bore down on John Flint like a frigate with all sails spread. At sight of her Panch spat and fled, and took the happy spell with him. "Here you are, cuddling that old pirate of a black cat!" said she, briskly. "I told Madame you'd be mooning about somewhere. Here's some cocoanut cake for you both. Father, Madame's been looking for you. Did you know," she sank her voice to a piercing whisper, "that George Inglesby's here? Well, he is! He's talking to Mary Virginia Eustis, this very minute! They do say he's running after Mary Virginia, and I'm sure I wouldn't be surprised, for if ever a mortal man had the effrontery of Satan that man's George Inglesby! I must admit he's improved since Mr. Hunter took him in hand. He's not nearly so stout and red-faced, and he hasn't half the jowl, though Lord knows he'll have to get rid of a few tons more of his blubber" (Miss Sally Ruth has a free and fetterless tongue) "if he wants to look _human_. As I say, what's the use of being a millionaire if you've got a shape like a rainbarrel? I often tell myself, 'Maybe you haven't been given such a lot of this world's goods as some, Sally Ruth Dexter, but you can thank your sweet Redeemer you've at least got a Figure!" The Butterfly Man cast a speculative eye over her generous proportions. "Yes'm, you certainly have a whole lot to be thankful for," he agreed, so wholeheartedly that Miss Sally Ruth laughed.