" I FEEL in this radiant atmosphere that there could be no such thing as war-men striving together in black and passionate hatred." The professor's words were for the benefit of his wife and daughter. ,He was viewing the sky-blue waters of the Gulf of Corinth with its background of mountains that in the sunshine were touched here and there with a copperish glare.
The train was slowly sweeping along the southern shore. " It is strange to think of those men fighting up there in the north. And it is strange to think that we ourselves are but just returning from it."" I cannot begin to realise it yet," said Mrs. Wain-wright, in a high voice.
" Quite so," responded the professor, reflectively.
"I do not suppose any of us will realise it fully for some time. It is altogether too odd, too very odd.""To think of it!" cried Mrs. WainWright. "To think of it! Supposing those dreadful Albanians or those awful men from the Greek mountains had caught us! Why, years from now I'll wake up in the night and think of it! "The professor mused. " Strange that we cannot feel it strongly now. My logic tells me to be aghast that we ever got into such a place, but my nerves at present refuse to thrill. I am very much afraid that this singular apathy of ours has led us to be unjust to poor Coleman."Here Mrs. Wainwright objected. " Poor Coleman!
I don't see why you call him poor Coleman.
" Well," answered the professor, slowly, " I am in doubt about our behaviour. It-"" Oh," cried the wife, gleefully," in doubt about our behaviour! I'm in doubt about his behaviour."" So, then, you do have a doubt. of his behaviour?"" Oh, no," responded Mrs. Wainwright, hastily, " not about its badness. What I meant to say was that in the face of his outrageous conduct with that-that woman, it is curious that you should worry about our behaviour. It surprises me, Harrison."The professor was wagging his head sadly. " Idon't know I don't know It seems hard to judge * * I hesitate to-"Mrs. Wainwright treated this attitude with disdain.
" It is not hard to judge," she scoffed, " and I fail to see why you have any reason for hesitation at all.
Here he brings this woman-- "
The professor got angry. "Nonsense! Nonsense!
I do not believe that he brought her. If I ever saw a spectacle of a woman bringing herself, it was then.
You keep chanting that thing like an outright parrot.""Well," retorted Mrs. Wainwright, bridling, "Isuppose you imagine that you understand such things, Men usually think that, but I want to tell you that you seem to me utterly blind."" Blind or not, do stop the everlasting reiteration of that sentence."Mrs. Wainwright passed into an offended silence, and the professor, also silent, looked with a gradually dwindling indignation at the scenery.
Night was suggested in the sky before the train was near to Athens. " My trunks," sighed Mrs.
Wainwright. " How glad I will be to get back to my trunks! Oh, the dust! Oh, the misery ! Do find out when we will get there, Harrison. Maybe the train is late."But, at last, they arrived in Athens, amid a darkness which was confusing, and, after no more than the common amount of trouble, they procured carriages and were taken to the hotel. Mrs. Wainwright's impulses now dominated the others in the family.
She had one passion after another. The majority of the servants in the hotel pretended that they spoke English, but, in three minutes, she drove them distracted with the abundance and violence of her requests.
It came to pass that in the excitement the old couple quite forgot Marjory. It was not until Mrs. Wainwright, then feeling splendidly, was dressed for dinner, that she thought to open Marjory's door and go to render a usual motherly supervision of the girl's toilet.
There was no light: there did not seem to be any-body in the room. " Marjory ! " called the mother, in alarm. She listened for a moment and then ran hastily out again. " Harrison ! " she cried. " I can't find Marjory!" The professor had been tying his cravat. He let the loose ends fly. "What?" he ejaculated, opening his mouth wide. Then they both rushed into Marjory's room. "Marjory!" beseeched the old man in a voice which would have invoked the grave.
The answer was from the bed. "Yes?" It was low, weary, tearful. It was not like Marjory. It was dangerously the voice of a hcart-broken woman.
They hurried forward with outcries. "Why, Marjory!
Are you ill, child? How long have you been lying in the dark? Why didn't you call us? Are you ill?"" No," answered this changed voice, " I am not ill.
I only thought I'd rest for a time. Don't bother."The professor hastily lit the gas and then father and mother turned hurriedly to the bed. In the first of the illumination they saw that tears were flowing unchecked down Marjory's face.
The effect.of this grief upon the professor was, in part, an effect of fear. He seemed afraid to touch it, to go near it. He could, evidently, only remain in the outskirts, a horrified spectator. The mother, how.
ever, flung her arms about her daughter. " Oh, Marjory! "She, too, was weeping.
The girl turned her face to the pillow and held out a hand of protest. " Don't, mother! Don't !""Oh, Marjory! Oh, Marjory!"
" Don't, mother. Please go away. Please go away. Don't speak at all, I beg of you."" Oh, Marjory! Oh, Marjory!"
