"Do you think it would be any use my trying? Really, do you really? I should so love to, if it would be of any use. You know, I have always wanted to understand about it, and there is hardly anyone in the world I admire so much as the philosophers. They are the real leaders of the world--Socrates, and Emerson, and Herbert Spencer. And a frivolous life like mine seems sometimes so--; But then people will never believe I am in earnest, and they all make fun of me and discourage me so. Perhaps they are right; but I have never had any one to help me." "Oh, I am sure they are wrong!" Craik cried. "If you would only try. Do you think I could--could help you?" "Oh, you are too kind! And perhaps, if you wouldn't mind coming to see me some afternoon to talk to me about it. And maybe you would bring your book; I should so love to see it! And then if you would let me look at one or two of your lectures, those you have for just the stupidest of your pupils. No! don't tell me I'm not stupid, for I am, I assure you. And I have no right to ask you to come; you are so busy." "Oh, but I should be only too delighted! If I may; if you don't think I should be a--with ladies, you know, I am always so afraid of being a bore." She smiled at him. "Ah, you do yourself injustice, Mr. Craik. Indeed you do! But come," she added suddenly, "we must be going back to the garden. How I hate to leave this dear old cloister!" "Must we really go?" "Yes, we really must. Isn't it horrid, when you have had such an interesting talk, to have to go back and say stupid and silly things to stupid and silly people?" They left the cloisters and, crossing the quadrangle, they stopped for a moment, and looked at the blue picture set in an archway of grey walls, the blue picture of the afternoon light and air in the depth and distance of the garden. "How pretty! It's like,--what is it like?" "Like standing in the past, and looking into the present?" Craik romantically suggested. "Yes, it's like that. But I mean the people, the way they look so far off and blue, as if they were under water. There's something else it reminds me of." "A tank at an aquarium, when you look through the plate glass?" "Yes, it _is_ like that, really!" "With Professors and Heads of Houses swimming about like old fat carp." "Oh, Mr. Craik, how can you? For shame!" She paused again when she got through the archway. "Tell me, Mr. Craik," she said, "is this the tower you live in? And the gargoyle you told me about? I should so like to see him. He must be charming. That face up there, peering over the roof? Oh yes, I see. How too delightful! My! isn't that quaint? Just think, he looks back on the past, and on the present, and on the town; and it symbolizes--symbolizes--Life, doesn't it?" "Yes,--perhaps it does," Craik said rather dubiously. "He hasn't exactly a kind expression," said Miss Lamb, looking up again.