"If you are going to be silly, you will find me little inclined to nonsense." "Shall we talk of the Asolando? I haven't been back since I saw you there. And yet,--let me see, is n't this your day there?" She seemed greatly amused; and her laughter rose with a fountain-like spontaneity, and fell, a splash of musical sound, on the mellow air of the orchard. She had changed her position as I joined her, sitting erect, and kicking her heels lazily against the wall. "Mr. Chimney Man, something terrible happened just after you left that afternoon. I was bounced, fired; I lost my job." "Incredible! I 'm sure it was not for any good cause. I can testify that you were a model of attention; you were surpassingly discreet. You repelled me in the most delicate manner when I intimated that I should come often on the days that you made the change." "The sad part of it was that that was not only my last day but my first! I had never been there before, except for a nibble now and then when I was in town. But I could n't stand it. It was like being in jail; in fact, I think jail would be preferable. But I 'm glad I spent that one day there. It proved what I have long believed, that I am a barbarian. That poetry on the walls of the Asolando made me tired, not that it is n't good poetry, but that the walls of a tea-shop are no place for it. I always suspect that people who like their poetry framed, and who have uplift mottoes stuck in mirrors where they can study them while they brush their hair in the morning, never really get any poetry inside of them. You need a place like this for poetry,--an old orchard, with blue sky and a crumbly wall to sit on. I tried the Asolando as a lark, really, not because I 'm deeply entertained by that sort of thing. They dispensed with my company because I remarked to one of the silly girls who are making the Asolando their life-work that I thought the English Pre-Raphaelites had carried the dish-face rather too far. The girl to whom I uttered this heresy was so shocked she dropped a tea-cup,--you know how brittle everything is in there,--and I came home. You were really the only adventure I got out of my day there. And I did n't find you entirely satisfactory." "Thank you, Francesca, for these confidences. And having lost your position you are now free to roam the hills and dream on orchard walls. Your scheme of life is to my liking. I can see with half an eye that you were born for the open, and that the walls of no prison-house can ever hold you again." She nodded a dreamy acquiescence. Then she turned two very brown eyes full upon me and demanded:-- "What is your name, please?" I mentioned it. "And you doctor chimneys? That sounds very amusing." "I 'm glad you like it. Most people think it absurd." "What are you doing here? There's not a chimney in sight." "Oh, I have a commission in the neighborhood. Hopefield Manor; you may have heard of Miss Hollister's place."