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 Contents
Preface xxiii
We’ll Have Fun, Fun, Fun… xxiii
Why C and C++? xxiv
C++: How to “Think Objects” xxiv
Purpose of the Third Edition xxiv
Where Do I Begin? xxv
Icons and More Icons xxvi
Anything Not Covered? xxvii
A Final Note: Have Fun! xxviii

Acknowledgments xxix

About the Author xxxi

Chapter 1 Start Using C++ 1

Install Microsoft Visual Studio 1
Create a Project with Microsoft 2
Writing a Program in Microsoft Visual Studio 5
Running a Program in Visual Studio 5
Compatibility Issue #1: stdafx.h 6
Compatibility Issue #2: Pausing the Screen 8
If You’re Not Using Microsoft 8
Example 1.1. Print a Message 9
How It Works 9

vii
viii Contents

Exercises 11
Interlude What about the #include and using? 11
Advancing to the Next Print Line 12
Example 1.2. Print Multiple Lines 13
How It Works 14
Exercises 15
Interlude What Is a String? 15
Storing Data: C++ Variables 16
Introduction to Data Types 17
Interlude Why Double Precision, Not Single? 19
Example 1.3. Convert Temperatures 19
How It Works 21
Optimizing the Program 23
Exercises 25
A Word about Variable Names and Keywords 26
Exercise 26
Chapter 1 Summary 27

Chapter 2 Decisions, Decisions 29

But First, a Few Words about Data Types 29
Decision Making in Programs 31
Interlude What about Artificial Intelligence (AI)? 31
if and if-else 32
Interlude Why Two Operators (= and ==)? 35
Example 2.1. Odd or Even? 36
How It Works 37
Optimizing the Code 38
Exercise 39
Introducing Loops 39
Interlude Infinite Loopiness 42
Example 2.2. Print 1 to N 43
How It Works 44
Optimizing the Program 45
Exercises 46
True and False in C++ 46
Interlude The bool Data Type 47
The Increment Operator (++) 48
Statements versus Expressions 49
 Contents ix
Introducing Boolean (Short-Circuit) Logic 51
Interlude What Is “true”? 53
Example 2.3. Testing a Person’s Age 53
How It Works 54
Exercise 54
Introducing the Math Library 55
Example 2.4. Prime-Number Test 55
How It Works 57
Optimizing the Program 58
Exercise 58
Example 2.5. The Subtraction Game (NIM) 58
How It Works 61
Exercises 61
Chapter 2 Summary 62

Chapter 3 And Even More Decisions! 65

The do-while Loop 65
Example 3.1. Adding Machine 67
How It Works 68
Exercises 69
Introducing Random Numbers 69
Example 3.2. Guess-the-Number Game 72
How It Works 74
Optimizing the Code 76
Exercises 77
The switch-case Statement 77
Example 3.3. Print a Number 80
How It Works 81
Exercises 82
Chapter 3 Summary 83

Chapter 4 The Handy, All-Purpose “for” Statement 85

Loops Used for Counting 85
Introducing the “for” Loop 86
A Wealth of Examples 88
Interlude Does “for” Always Behave Like “while”? 90
Example 4.1. Printing 1 to N with “for” 90
x Contents

How It Works 91
Exercises 92
Declaring Loop Variables “On the Fly” 92
Example 4.2. Prime-Number Test with “for” 93
How It Works 95
Exercise 96
Comparative Languages 101: The Basic “For” Statement 96
Chapter 4 Summary 97

Chapter 5 Functions: Many Are Called 99

The Concept of Function 99
The Basics of Using Functions 101
Step 1: Declare (Prototype) the Function 101
Step 2: Define the Function 102
Step 3: Call the Function 102
Example 5.1. The avg() Function 103
How It Works 104
Function, Call a Function! 105
Exercises 106
Example 5.2. Prime-Number Function 106
How It Works 108
Exercises 109
Local and Global Variables 109
Interlude Why Global Variables at All? 111
Recursive Functions 112
Example 5.3. Prime Factorization 113
How It Works 115
Interlude Interlude for Math Junkies 117
Exercises 117
Example 5.4. Euclid’s Algorithm for GCF 118
How It Works 119
Interlude Who Was Euclid? 121
Exercises 121
Interlude Interlude for Math Junkies: Rest of the Proof 122
Example 5.5. Beautiful Recursion: Tower of Hanoi 122
How It Works 125
Exercises 126
Example 5.6. Random-Number Generator 127
 Contents xi
How It Works 128
Exercises 129
Games and More Games 129
Chapter 5 Summary 131

Chapter 6 Arrays: All in a Row... 133

A First Look at C++ Arrays 133
Initializing Arrays 135
Zero-Based Indexing 135
Interlude Why Use Zero-Based Indexes? 136
Example 6.1. Print Out Elements 137
How It Works 137
Exercises 138
Example 6.2. How Random Is Random? 139
How It Works 141
Exercises 143
Strings and Arrays of Strings 144
Example 6.3. Print a Number (from Arrays) 145
How It Works 147
Exercises 147
Example 6.4. Simple Card Dealer 148
How It Works 150
Exercises 152
2-D Arrays: Into the Matrix 152
Chapter 6 Summary 153

Chapter 7 Pointers: Data by Location 155

What the Heck Is a Pointer, Anyway? 155
The Concept of Pointer 156
Interlude What Do Addresses Look Like? 157
Declaring and Using Pointers 158
Example 7.1. Print Out Addresses 161
Example 7.2. The double_it Function 162
How It Works 163
Exercises 164
Data Flow in Functions 165
Swap: Another Function Using Pointers 165
Example 7.3. Array Sorter 166
xii Contents

How It Works 170

Exercises 172
Reference Arguments (&) 172
Pointer Arithmetic 173
Pointers and Array Processing 175
Example 7.4. Zero Out an Array 177
How It Works 178
Writing More Compact Code 178
Exercises 179
Chapter 7 Summary 180

Chapter 8 Strings: Analyzing the Text 181

Text Storage on the Computer 181
Interlude How Does the Computer Translate Programs? 182
It Don’t Mean a Thing if It Ain’t Got that String 183
String-Manipulation Functions 184
Example 8.1. Building Strings 186
How It Works 187
Exercises 189
Interlude What about Escape Sequences? 189
Reading String Input 190
Example 8.2. Get a Number 192
How It Works 193
Exercise 195
Example 8.3. Convert to Uppercase 195
How It Works 196
Exercises 197
Individual Characters versus Strings 197
Example 8.4. Breaking Up Input with strtok 198
How It Works 200
Exercises 201
The C++ String Class 201
Include String-Class Support 202
Declare and Initialize Variables of Class string 203
Working with Variables of Class string 203
Input and Output 205
Example 8.5. Building Strings with the string Class 205
How It Works 206
 Contents xiii
Exercises 207
Example 8.6. Adding Machine #2 207
How It Works 208
Exercises 209
Other Operations on the string Type 209
Chapter 8 Summary 210

Chapter 9 Files: Electronic Storage 213

Introducing File—Stream Objects 213
How to Refer to Disk Files 215
Example 9.1. Write Text to a File 216
How It Works 217
Exercises 219
Example 9.2. Display a Text File 219
How It Works 221
Exercises 222
Text Files versus “Binary” Files 222
Interlude Are “Binary Files” Really More Binary? 224
Introducing Binary Operations 225
Example 9.3. Random-Access Write 227
How It Works 229
Exercises 230
Example 9.4. Random-Access Read 230
How It Works 232
Exercises 233
Chapter 9 Summary 233

Chapter 10 Classes and Objects 237

OOP, My Code Is Showing 237
What’s an Object, Anyway? 238
Interlude OOP…Is It Worth It? 240
Point: A Simple Class 241
Interlude Interlude for C Programmers: Structures and Classes 242
Private: Members Only (Protecting the Data) 243
Example 10.1. Testing the Point Class 246
How It Works 247
Exercises 248
xiv Contents

Introducing the Fraction Class 248

Inline Functions 251
Find the Greatest Common Factor 253
Find the Lowest Common Denominator 254
Example 10.2. Fraction Support Functions 255
How It Works 256
Exercises 258
Example 10.3. Testing the Fraction Class 258
How It Works 260
Interlude A New Kind of #include? 261
Exercises 262
Example 10.4. Fraction Arithmetic: add and mult 262
How It Works 266
Exercises 267
Chapter 10 Summary 267

Chapter 11 Constructors: If You Build It… 269

Introducing Constructors 269
Multiple Constructors (Overloading) 270
C++11/C++14 Only: Initializing Members 271
The Default Constructor—and a Warning 272
Interlude Is C++ Out to Trick You with the Default Constructor? 273
C++11/C++14 Only: Delegating Constructors 274
Example 11.1. Point Class Constructors 275
How It Works 277
Exercises 277
Example 11.2. Fraction Class Constructors 278
How It Works 280
Exercises 281
Reference Variables and Arguments (&) 281
The Copy Constructor 282
Interlude The Copy Constructor and References 284
A Constructor from String to Fract 285
Chapter 11 Summary 286
 Contents xv

Chapter 12 Two Complete OOP Examples 289

Dynamic Object Creation 289
Other Uses of new and delete 290
Blowin’ in the Wind: A Binary Tree App 291
The Bnode Class 294
The Btree Class 296
Example 12.1. Names in Alpha Order 298
How It Works 299
Exercises 300
Interlude Recursion versus Iteration Compared 301
Tower of Hanoi, Animated 302
After Mystack Class Design 304
Using the Cstack Class 304
Example 12.2. Animated Tower 305
How It Works 308
Exercises 311
Chapter 12 Summary 311

Chapter 13 Easy Programming with STL 313

Introducing the List Template 313
Interlude Writing Templates in C++ 314
Creating and Using a List Class 315
Creating and Using Iterators 316
C++11/C++14 Only: For Each 318
Interlude Pointers versus Iterators 319
Example 13.1. STL Ordered List 319
How It Works 320
A Continually Sorted List 321
Exercises 323
Designing an RPN Calculator 323
Interlude A Brief History of Polish Notation 325
Using a Stack for RPN 325
Introducing the Generalized STL Stack Class 327
Example 13.2. Reverse Polish Calculator 329
How It Works 330
Exercises 332
xvi Contents

Correct Interpretation of Angle Brackets 333

Chapter 13 Summary 333

Chapter 14 Object-Oriented Monty Hall 335

What’s the Deal? 335
TV Programming: “Good Deal, Bad Deal” 337
Example 14.1. The PrizeManager Class 339
How It Works 340
Optimizing the Code 341
Exercises 342
Example 14.2. The DoorManager Class 343
How It Works 344
Exercises 346
Example 14.3. The Full Monty Program 347
How It Works 349
Exercises 350
The Monty Hall Paradox, or What’s Behind the Door? 351
Improving the Prize Manager 353
Chapter 14 Summary 356

Chapter 15 Object-Oriented Poker 359

Winning in Vegas 359
How to Draw Cards 361
The Card Class 363
The Deck Class 364
Doing the Job with Algorithms 366
Example 15.1. Primitive Video Poker 368
How It Works 369
Exercises 370
The Vector Template 371
Getting Nums from the Player 372
Example 15.2. Draw Poker 373
How It Works 376
Exercises 378
How to Evaluate Poker Hands 378
Example 15.3. Draw-Poker Payout! 383
 Contents xvii
How It Works 385
Exercises 386
Chapter 15 Summary 387

Chapter 16 Polymorphic Poker 389

Multiple Decks 389
Switching Decks at Runtime 391
Polymorphism Is the Answer 392
Example 16.1. A Virtual Dealer 396
How It Works 397
Exercises 399
Interlude What Is the Virtual Penalty? 399
“Pure Virtual” and Other Abstract Matters 401
Abstract Classes and Interfaces 402
Object Orientation and I/O 403
cout Is Endlessly Extensible 404
But cout Is Not Polymorphic 404
Example 16.2. True Polymorphism: The IPrintable Class 405
How It Works 408
Exercises 409
A Final Word (or Two) 410
An (Even More) Final Word 411
Chapter 16 Summary 412

Chapter 17 New Features of C++14 415

The Newest C++14 Features 415
Digit-Group Separators 416
String-Literal Suffix 417
Binary Literals 418
Example 17.1. Bitwise Operations 421
Exercises 421
Features Introduced in C++11 422
The long long Type 422
Interlude Why a “Natural” Integer? 424
Working with 64-Bit Literals (Constants) 424
Accepting long long Input 425
xviii Contents

Formatting long long Numbers 426

Example 17.2. Fibonacci: A 64-Bit Example 427
How It Works 430
Exercises 431
Localizing Numbers 431
Interlude Who Was Fibonacci? 432
Range-Based “for” (For Each) 433
Example 17.3. Setting an Array with Range-Based “for” 435
How It Works 437
Exercises 437
The auto and decltype Keywords 438
The nullptr Keyword 439
Strongly Typed Enumerations 440
enum Classes in C++11 Onward 442
Extended enum Syntax: Controlling Storage 442
Raw-String Literals 443
Chapter 17 Summary 444

Chapter 18 Operator Functions: Doing It with Class 447

Introducing Operator Functions 447
Operator Functions as Global Functions 450
Improve Efficiency with References 452
Example 18.1. Point Class Operators 454
How It Works 456
Exercises 457
Example 18.2. Fraction Class Operators 457
How It Works 460
Optimizing the Code 461
Exercises 462
Working with Other Types 463
The Class Assignment Function (=) 463
The Test-for-Equality Function (==) 465
A Class “Print” Function 466
Example 18.3. The Completed Fraction Class 467
How It Works 470
Exercises 471
 Contents xix
A Really Final Word (about Ops) 471
Chapter 18 Summary 472

Appendix A Operators 475

The Scope (::) Operator 478
The sizeof Operator 478
Old- and New-Style Type Casts 479
Integer versus Floating-Point Division 480
Bitwise Operators (&, |, ^, ~, <<, and >>) 480
Conditional Operator 481
Assignment Operators 482
Join (,) Operator 482

Appendix B Data Types 483

Precision of Data Types 484
Data Types of Numeric Literals 485
String Literals and Escape Sequences 486
Two’s-Complement Format for Signed Integers 487

Appendix C Syntax Summary 491

Basic Expression Syntax 491
Basic Statement Syntax 492
Control Structures and Branch Statements 493
The if-else Statement 493
The while Statement 493
The do-while Statement 494
The for Statement 494
The switch-case Statement 495
The break Statement 496
The continue Statement 496
The goto Statement 497
The return Statement 497
The throw Statement 497
xx Contents

Variable Declarations 498

Function Declarations 500
Class Declarations 502
Enum Declarations 503

Appendix D Preprocessor Directives 505

The #define Directive 505
The ## Operator (Concatenation) 507
The defined Function 507
The #elif Directive 507
The #endif Directive 508
The #error Directive 508
The #if Directive 508
The #ifdef Directive 509
The #ifndef Directive 510
The #include Directive 510
The #line Directive 511
The #undef Directive 511
Predefined Constants 512

Appendix E ASCII Codes 513

Appendix F Standard Library Functions 517

String (C-String) Functions 517
Data-Conversion Functions 518
Single-Character Functions 519
Math Functions 520
Randomization Functions 521
Time Functions 521
Formats for the strftime Function 523
 Contents xxi

Appendix G I/O Stream Objects and Classes 525

Console Stream Objects 525
I/O Stream Manipulators 526
Input Stream Functions 528
Output Stream Functions 528
File I/O Functions 529

Appendix H STL Classes and Objects 531

The STL String Class 531
The <bitset> Template 533
The <list> Template 534
The <vector> Template 536
The <stack> Template 538

Appendix I Glossary of Terms 541

Index 559
This page intentionally left blank
 Preface
It’s safe to say that C++ is the most important programming language in the
world today.
This language is widely used to create commercial applications, ranging from
operating systems to word processors. There was a time when big applications
had to be written in machine code because there was little room in a computer
for anything else. But that time has long passed. Gone are the days in which
Bill Gates had to squeeze all of BASICA into 64K!
C++, the successor to the original C language, remains true to the goal of
producing efficient programs while maximizing programmer productivity.
It typically produces executable files second in compactness only to machine
code, but it enables you to get far more done. More often than not, C++ is the
language of choice for professionals.
But it sometimes gets a reputation for not being the easiest to learn. That’s
the reason for this book.

We’ll Have Fun, Fun, Fun…

Anything worth learning is worth a certain amount of effort. But that doesn’t
mean it can’t be fun, which brings us to this book.
I’ve been programming in C since the 1980s and in C++ since the 1990s, and
have used them to create business- and systems-level applications. The pitfalls
are familiar to me—things like uninitialized pointers and using one equal sign (=)
instead of two (==) in an “if” condition. I can steer you past the errors that
caused me hours of debugging and sweat, years ago.
But I also love logic problems and games. Learning a programming language
doesn’t have to be dull. In this book, we’ll explore the Tower of Hanoi and the
Monty Hall paradox, among other puzzles.
Learning to program is a lot more fun and easy when you can visualize con-
cepts. This book makes heavy use of diagrams and illustrations.
xxiii
xxiv Preface

Why C and C++?

There’s nothing wrong with other programming languages. I was one of the
first people in the world to write a line of code in Visual Basic (while a project
lead at Microsoft), and I admire Python as a high-level scripting tool.
But with a little care, you’ll find C++ almost as easy to learn. Its syntax is
slightly more elaborate than Visual Basic’s or Python’s, but C++ has long been
seen as a clean, flexible, elegant language, which was why its predecessor, C,
caught on with so many professionals.
From the beginning, C was designed to provide shortcuts for certain lines of
code you’ll write over and over; for example, you can use “++n” to add 1 to a
variable rather than “n = n + 1.” The more you program in C or C++, the more
you’ll appreciate its shortcuts, its brevity, and its flexibility.

C++: How to “Think Objects”

A systems programmer named Dennis Ritchie created C as a tool to write oper-
ating systems. (He won the Turing Award in 1983.) He needed a language that
was concise and flexible, and could manipulate low-level things like physical
addresses when needed. The result, C, quickly became popular for other uses
as well.
Later, Bjarne Stroustrup created C++, originally as a kind of “C with classes.”
It added the ability to do object orientation, a subject I’ll devote considerable
space to, starting in Chapter 10. Object orientation is a way of building a pro-
gram around intelligent data types. A major goal of this edition is to showcase
object orientation as a superior, more modular way to program, and how to
“think objects.”
Ultimately, C++ became far more than just “C with classes.” Over the years,
support was added for many new features, notably the Standard Template
Library (STL). The STL is not difficult to learn and this book shows you how
to use it to simplify a lot of programming work. As time goes on, this library is
becoming more central to the work of C++ programmers.

Purpose of the Third Edition

The purpose of the third edition is simple: double down on the strengths of past
editions and correct limitations.
In particular, this edition aims at being more fun and easier to use than ever.
Most of the features of the previous edition remain, but the focus is more on
 Another Random Document on
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dull Miss
Archinard
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
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under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
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you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Dull Miss Archinard

Author: Anne Douglas Sedgwick

Release date: February 16, 2013 [eBook #42109]

Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DULL MISS

ARCHINARD ***
 The
Dull Miss Archinard

By
Anne Douglas Sedgwick
New York
Charles Scribner’s Sons
1898

Copyright, 1898, by
Charles Scribner’s Sons
—
All rights reserved

TO

MY GRANDMOTHER

H. M. D.

Prologue
CHAPTER I., II, III, IV, V, VI, VII.
Part I.
CHAPTER I, II, III, IV, V.
Part II.
CHAPTER I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII,
XIV, XV.
 Prologue

PETER ODD
The Dull Miss Archinard
 CHAPTER I.

P ETER ODD was fishing. He stood knee-deep in a placid bend of

stream, whipping the water deftly, his eyes peacefully intent on
the floating fly, his mind in the musing, impersonal mood of
fisherman reverie, no definite thought forming from the appreciative
impressions of sunlit meadows, cool stretches of shade beneath old
trees, gleaming curves of river. For a tired man, fishing is an
occupation particularly soothing, and Peter Odd was tired, tired and
sad. His pleasure was now, perhaps, more that of the lover of nature
than of the true sportsman, the pastoral feast of the landscape with
its blue distance of wooded hill, more to him than the expected
flashing leap of a scarlet-spotted beauty; yet the attitude of
receptive intentness was pleasant in all its phases, no one weary
thought could become dominant while the eyes rested on the water,
or were raised to such loveliness of quiet English country. So much
of what he saw his own too; the sense of proprietorship is, under
such circumstances, an intimately pleasant thing, and although,
where Odd stood at a wide curve of water, a line of hedge and tall
beech-trees sloping down to the river marked the confines of his
property just here, the woods and meadows before him were all his
—to the blue hills on the sky almost, the park behind him stretched
widely about Allersley Manor, and to the left the river ran for a very
respectable number of miles through woods and meadows as
beautiful. The sense of proprietorship was still new enough to give a
little thrill, for the old squire had died only two years before, and the
sorrow of loss had only recently roused itself to the realization of
bequeathed responsibilities, to the realization that energies so called
forth may perhaps make of life a thing well worth living. A life of
quiet utility; to feel oneself of some earthly use; what more could
one ask? The duties of a landowner in our strenuous days may well
fill a man’s horizon, and Odd was well content that they should do
so; for the present at least; and he did not look beyond the present.
 In his tweeds and waterproof knee-breeches and boots, a sun-
burnt straw hat shading his thin brown face, his hand steady and
dexterous, as brown and thin, he was a pleasing example of the
English country-gentleman type. He was tall, with the flavor of easy
strength and elegance that an athletic youth gives to the most
awkwardly made man. His face was at once humorous and sad; it is
strange how a humorous character shows itself through the saddest
set of feature. Odd’s long, rather acquiline nose and Vandyke beard
made a decidedly melancholy silhouette on the sunlit water, yet all
the lines of the face told of a kindly contemplation of the world’s
pathetic follies; the mouth was sternly cut yet very good-tempered,
and its firm line held evident suggestions of quiet smiling.
Poor Peter Odd had himself committed a pathetic folly, and, as a
result, smiles might be tinged with bitterness.
A captured trout presently demanded concentrated attention. The
vigorous fish required long playing until worn out, when he was
deftly secured in the landing-net and despatched with merciful
promptitude; indeed, a little look of nervous distaste might have
roused in an unsympathetic looker-on conjectures as to a rather
weak strain—a foolish width of pity in Peter Odd’s character.
“A beauty,” he mentally ejaculated. He sat down in the shade. It
was hot; the long, thick grass invited a lolling rest.
On the other side of the hedge was a rustic bathing-cabin, and
from it Odd heard the laughing chatter of young voices. The
adjoining property was a small one belonging to a Captain Archinard.
Odd had seen little of him; his wife was understood to be something
of an invalid, and he had two girls—these their voices, no doubt.
Odd took off his hat and mopped his forehead, looking at the little
landing-wharf which he could just see beyond the hedge, and where
one could moor boats or dive off into the deepness of the water. The
latter form of aquatic exercise was probably about to take place, for
Odd heard—
“I can swim beautifully already, papa,” in a confident young voice
—a gay voice, quiet, and yet excited too by the prospect of a display
of prowess.
A tall, thin girl of about fourteen stepped out on to the landing. A
bathing-dress is not as a rule a very graceful thing, yet this child, her
skirt to her knee, a black silk sash knotted around her waist, with
her slim white legs and charming feet, was as graceful as a young
Amazon on a Grecian frieze. A heavy mass of braids, coiled up to
avoid a wetting, crowned her small head. She was not pretty; Odd
saw that immediately, even while admiring the well-poised figure, its
gallantly held little torso and light energy. Her profile showed a short
nose and prominent chin, inharmoniously accentuated. She seemed
really ugly when her sister joined her; the sister was beautiful. Odd
roused himself a little from his half recumbency to look at the sister
appreciatively. Her slimness was exaggerated to an extreme—an
almost fluttering lightness; her long arms and legs seemed to flash
their whiteness on the green; she had an exquisite profile, and her
soft black hair swept up into the same coronet of coils. Captain
Archinard joined them as they stood side by side.
“You had better race,” he said, looking down into the water, and
then away to the next band of shadow. “Dive in, and race to that
clump of aspens. This is a jolly bit for diving.”
“But, papa, we shall wet our hair fearfully,” said the elder girl—the
ugly one—for so Odd already ungallantly designated her. “We usually
get in on this shallower side and swim off. We have never tried
diving, for it takes so long to dry our hair. Taylor would not like it at
all.”
“It is so deep, too,” said the beauty in rather a faltering voice—
unfortunately faltering, for her father turned sharply on her.
“Afraid, hey? You mustn’t be a coward, Hilda.”
“I am not afraid,” said the elder girl; “but I never tried it. What
must I do? Put my arms so, and jump head first?”
“There is nothing to do at all,” said the Captain, with some acidity
of tone. “Keep your mouth shut and strike out as you come up. You’ll
do it, Katherine, first try. Hilda is in a funk, I see.”
 “Poor Hilda,” Odd ejaculated mentally. She was evidently in a funk.
Standing on the edge of the landing, one slim foot advanced in a
tentative effort, she looked down shrinking into the water—very
deeply black at this spot—and then, half entreatingly, half helplessly,
at her father.
“Oh, papa, it is so deep,” she repeated.
The Captain’s neatly made face showed signs of peevish irritation.
“Well, deep or not, in you go. I must break you of that craven
spirit. What are you afraid of? What could happen to you?”
“I—don’t like water over my head—I might strike—on something.”
Tears were near the surface.
What asses people made of themselves, thought Odd, with their
silly shows of authority. The more the father insisted, the more
frightened the child became; couldn’t the idiot see that? The tear-
filled eyes and looks that showed a struggle between fear of her
father’s anger and fear of the deep, black pool, moved Odd to a
sudden though half-amused resentment, for the little girl was
certainly somewhat of a coward.
“Let me go in first, papa, and show her. Hilda, dear, it’s nothing;
being frightened will make it something, though, so don’t be
frightened, and watch me.”
“Yes, go in first, Katherine; show her that I have a girl who isn’t a
coward—and how one of my daughters came to be a coward I don’t
understand. I am ashamed of you, Hilda.”
Hilda evidently only controlled her sobs by a violent effort; her
caught-in under-lip, wide eyes, and heaving little chest affected Odd
painfully. He frowned, sat up, put his hat on, and watched Miss
Katherine with a lack of sympathy that was certainly unfair, for the
plucky little person went through the performance most creditably,
stretched out and up her thin pretty arms, curved forward her pretty
body, and made the plunge with a lithe elegance that left her father
gazing with complacent approval after the white flash of her feet.
 “Bravo! First-rate! There, Hilda, you see what can be done. Come
on, little white feather.” He spoke more kindly; the elder sister’s
prowess put him more in humor with his less creditable offspring.
“Oh, papa!” The child shrank on the edge of the platform—she
would go bundling in, and hurt herself. “But, papa,” and her voice
held a sharp accent of distress, “where is Katherine?”
Indeed Katherine had not reappeared. Only a moment had
passed, but a moment under water is long. Captain Archinard’s eyes
searched the surface of the river.
“But she can swim?”
“Papa! papa! She is drowned, drowned!” Hilda’s voice rose to a
scream. With a wild look of resolve she sprang into the river just as
Odd dashed in, knee-deep, and as Katherine’s head appeared at
some distance down the current—an angry little head, half choked,
and gasping. Katherine swam and waded to the shore, falling on her
knees upon the bank, while Odd dived into the hole—very bad hole,
deep and weedy—after Hilda.
He groped for the child among a tangle of roots, touched her hair,
grasped her round the waist, and came to the surface with some
difficulty, his strokes impeded by sinuous cord-like weeds. Captain
Archinard was too much astonished by the whole matter to do more
than exclaim, “Upon my word!” as his younger daughter was
deposited at his feet.
“A nasty hole that. The weeds have probably grown since any one
has dived.”
Odd spoke shortly, having lost his breath, and severely; the child
looked half drowned, and Katherine was still gasping.
“Why, Mr. Odd! Upon my word!”—the Captain recognized his
neighbor—“I don’t know how to thank you.”
The Captain had not recovered from his astonishment, and
repeated with some vehemence: “Upon my word!”
“Well, papa, you nearly drowned me!” Katherine was struggling
between pride and anger. She would not let the tears come, but they
were near the surface. “Those horrible snaky things got hold of me
and I almost screamed, only I remembered that I mustn’t open my
mouth, and I thought I would never come to the top.” The self-
pitying retrospect brought the tears to her eyes, but she held up her
head and looked and spoke her resentment, “I think you might have
gone in first yourself. And Hilda! Why didn’t you wait until I came to
the surface before you made her do it?”
Captain Archinard looked more vague under these reproaches
than one would have expected after his exhibition of rather fretful
autocracy.
“Made her!” he repeated, seizing with a rather mean haste at the
error; “made her? She went in herself! Like a rocket, after you. By
Jove! she showed her blood after all.”
“Hilda! you tried to save my life!”
Odd still held the younger girl on his arm, supporting her while
she choked and panted, for she had evidently had not shown her
sister’s aplomb and had opened her mouth. Katherine took her into
her arms and kissed her with a warmth quite dramatic.
“Darling Hilda! And you were so frightened, too. I would have
gone in after her,” she added, looking up at Odd with a bright, quick
glance, “but there would have been nothing to my credit in that.”
“And I would have gone in after her, it goes without saying, Mr.
Odd,” said the Captain, when Katherine had led away to the bathing-
cabin her still dazed sister, “but you seemed to drop from the clouds.
Really, you have put me under a great obligation.”
“Not at all. I have spent most of the day in the river. I merely went
in a bit deeper to fish out that plucky little girl.”
“I’ve dived off that spot a hundred times. I’d no idea there were
weeds. I’ve never known weeds to be there. I’ll send down one of
the men directly after lunch and have it seen to. Really I feel a sense
of responsibility.” The Captain went on with an air of added self-
justification, “Though, of course, I’m not responsible. I couldn’t have
known about the weeds.”
 Weeds or no weeds, Odd could not forgive him for the child’s
fright, though he replied good-humoredly to the invitation to the
house.
“Mrs. Archinard would have called on Mrs. Odd before this, but my
wife is an invalid—never leaves the house or grounds. She sees a
good deal of Miss Odd. I knew your father myself as well as one may
know such a recluse; spent some pleasant hours in his library—
magnificent library you’ve got. Peculiarly satisfactory it must be, as
you go in for that sort of thing. Won’t you come in to tea this
afternoon? And Mrs. Odd? Miss Odd? I was sorry to find them out
when I called the other day. I haven’t seen Mrs. Odd. I don’t see her
at church.”
“No; we have hardly settled down to our duties yet, and my wife
only got back from the Riviera a few weeks ago.”
“Well, I hope we shall keep you at Allersley now that your
wanderjahre are over, and that you are married. I was wandering
myself during your boyhood. My brother bought the place, you
know; liked the country here immensely. Poor old Jack! Only lived
ten years to enjoy it—and died a bachelor—luckily for me. But we’ve
missed one another, haven’t we? Neighbors too. I have seen Mrs.
Odd—at a dance in London, Lady Bartlebury’s, I remember; and I
remember that she was the prettiest girl in the room. Miss Castleton
—the beautiful Alicia Castleton.”
Miss Castleton’s fame had indeed been so wide that the title was
quite public property, and the Captain’s reminiscent tone of
admiration most natural and allowable. Odd accepted the invitation
to tea, waded back round the hedge, gathered up his basket and
rod, and made his way up through the park to Allersley Manor.
 CHAPTER II

M RS. ODD and Miss Odd, Peter’s eldest and unmarried sister,
were having an only half-veiled altercation when Odd, after
putting on dry clothes, came into the morning-room just before
lunch. Miss Odd sat by the open French window cutting the leaves of
a review. There were several more reviews on the table beside her,
and with her eyeglasses and fine, severe profile, she gave one the
impression of a woman who would pass her mornings over reviews
and disagree with most of them for reasons not frivolous.
Mrs. Odd lay back in an easy-chair. She was very remarkable
looking. The adjective is usually employed in a sense rather
derogatory to beauty pure and simple, yet Mrs. Odd’s dominant
characteristic was beauty, pure and simple; beauty triumphantly
certain of remark, and remarkable in the sense that no one could fail
to notice her, as when one had noticed her it was impossible not to
find her beautiful. It was not a loveliness that admitted of discussion.
In desperate rebellion against an almost tame conformity, a rash
person might assert that to him her type did not appeal; but the
type was resplendent. Perhaps too resplendent; in this extreme lay
the only hope of escape from conformity. The long figure in the
uniform-like commonplace of blue serge and shirt-waist was almost
too uncommonplace in elegance of outline; the white hand too
slender, too pink as to finger-tips and polished as to nails; the
delicate scarlet splendor of her mouth, the big wine-colored eyes,
too dazzling.
Mrs. Odd’s red-brown hair was a glory, a burnished, well-coiffed,
well-brushed glory; it rippled, coiled, and curved about her head.
Her profile was bewildering—lazily, sweetly petulant. “Is this the
face?” a man might murmur on first seeing Alicia.
Odd had so murmured when she had flashed upon his vision over
a year ago. He was still young and literary, and, as he was swept out
of himself, had still had time for a vague grasp at self-expression.
 Mrs. Odd was speaking as he entered the room.
“I don’t really see, Mary, what duty has got to do with it.” Without
turning her head, she turned her eyes on Odd: “How wet your hair
is, Peter!”
Mary Odd looked up from the review she was cutting rather
grimly, and her cold face was irradiated with a sudden smile.
“Well, Peter,” she said quietly.
“I fished a little girl out of the river,” said Odd, taking a seat near
Alicia, and smiling responsively at his sister. “Captain Archinard’s little
girl.” He told the story.
“An interesting contrast of physical and moral courage.”
“I have seen the children. They are noticeable children. They
always ride to hounds.” Hunting had been Miss Odd’s favorite
diversion during her father’s lifetime. “But the pretty one, as I
remember, has not the pluck of her sister—physical, as you say,
Peter, no doubt.”
“What sort of a person is Mrs. Archinard?”
“Very pretty, very lazy, very selfish. She is an American, and was
rich, I believe. Captain Archinard left the army when he married her,
and immediately spent her money. Luckily for him poor Mr. Archinard
died—Jack Archinard; you remember him, Peter? A nice man. I go to
see Mrs. Archinard now and then. I don’t care for her.”
“You don’t care much for any one, Mary,” said Mrs. Odd, smiling.
“Your remarks on your Allersley neighbors are very pungent and very
true, no doubt. People are so rarely perfect, and you only tolerate
perfection.”
“Yet I have many friends, Alicia.”
“Not near Allersley?”
“Yes; I think I count Mrs. Hartley-Fox, Mrs. Maynard, Lady
Mainwaring, and Miss Hibbard among my friends.”
“Mrs. Maynard is the old lady with the caps, isn’t she? What big
caps she does wear! Lady Mainwaring I remember in London, trying
to marry off her eighth daughter. You told me, I recollect, that she
was an inveterate matchmaker.”
“She has no selfish eagerness, if that is what you understood me
to mean.”
“But she does interfere a great deal with the course of events,
when events are marriageable young men, doesn’t she?”
“Does she?”
“Well, you said she was a matchmaker, Mary. There was no
disloyalty in saying so, for it is known by every one who knows Lady
Mainwaring.”
“And, therefore, my friends are not, and need not be, perfect.”
During this little conversation, Odd sat with the unhappy, helpless
look men wear when their women-kind are engaged in such
contests.
“I am awfully hungry. Isn’t it almost lunch-time?” he said, as they
paused.
Mrs. Odd looked at her watch. “It only wants five minutes.”
Odd walked to the window and looked out at the sweep of lawn,
with its lime-trees and copper beeches. The flower-beds were in all
their glory.
“How well the mignonette is getting on, Mary,” he said, looking
down at the fragrant greenness that came to the window. Alicia got
up and joined her husband, putting her arm through his.
“Let us take a turn in the garden, Peter,” she smiled at him; and
although he understood, with the fatal clearness that one year of life
with Alicia had given him, that the walk was only proposed as a
slight to Mary, he felt the old pleasure in her beauty—a rather sickly,
pallid pleasure—and an inner qualm was dispersed by the realization
that he and Mary understood one another so well that there need be
no fear of hurting her.
After one year of married life, he and Mary knew the nearness of
the sympathy that allows itself no words.
 There seemed to Odd a perverse pathos in Alicia’s lonely
complacency—a pathos emphasized by her indifferent
unconsciousness.
“Mary is so disagreeable to-day,” said Alicia, as they walked slowly
across the lawn. “She has such a strong sense of her own worth and
of other people’s worthlessness.”
Odd made no reply. He never said a harsh word to his wife. He
had chosen to marry her. The man who would wreak his own
disillusion on the woman he had made his wife must, thought Odd,
be a sorry wretch. He met the revealment of Alicia’s shallow
selfishness with humorous gentleness. She had been shallow and
selfish when he had married her, and he had not found it out—had
not cared to find it out. He contemplated these characteristics now
with philosophic, even scientific charity. She was born so.
“It will be dull enough here, at all events,” Alicia went on, pressing
her slim patent-leather shoe into the turf with lazy emphasis as she
walked, for Alicia was not bad-tempered, and took things easily; “but
if Mary is going to be disagreeable—“
“You know, Alicia, that Mary has always lived here. It is in a truer
sense her home than mine, but she would go directly if either you or
she found it disagreeable. Had you not assented so cordially she
would never have stayed.”
“Don’t imply extravagant things, Peter. Who thinks of her going?”
“She would—if you made it disagreeable.”
“I? I do nothing. Surely Mary won’t want to go because she scolds
me.”
“Come, Ally, surely you don’t get scolded—more than is good for
you.” Odd smiled down at her. Her burnished head was on a level
with his eyes. “Like everybody else, you are not perfection, and, as
Mary is somewhat of a disciplinarian, you ought to take her lectures
in a humble spirit, and be thankful. I do. Mary is so much nearer
perfection than I am.”
“I am afraid I shall be bored here, Peter.” Alicia left the subject of
Mary for a still more intimate grievance.
 “The art of not being bored requires patience, not to say genius. It
can be learned though. And there are worse things than being
bored.”
“I think I could bear anything better.”
“What would you like, Ally?” Odd’s voice held a certain
hopefulness. “I’ll do anything I can, you know. I believe in a
woman’s individuality and all that. Does your life down here crush
your individuality, Alicia?”
Again Odd smiled down at her, conscious of an inward bitterness.
“Joke away, Peter. You know how much I care for all that woman
business—rights and movements and individualities and all that; a
silly claiming of more duties that do no good when they’re done. I
am an absolutely banal person, Peter; my mind to me isn’t a
kingdom. I like outside things. I like gayety, change, diversion. I
don’t like days one after the other—like sheep—and I don’t like
sheep!”
They had passed through the shrubbery, and before them were
meadows dotted with the harmless animals that had suggested Mrs.
Odd’s simile.
“Well, we won’t look at the sheep. I own that they savor strongly
of bucolic immutability. You’ve had plenty of London for the past
year, Ally, and Nice and Monte Carlo. The sheep are really the
change.”
“You had better go in for a seat in Parliament, Peter.”
“Longings for a political salon, Ally? I have hardly time for my
scribbling and landlording as it is.”
“A salon! Nothing would bore me so much as being clever and
keeping it up. No, I like seeing people and being seen, and dancing
and all that. I am absolutely banal, as I tell you.”
“Well, you shall have London next year. We’ll go up for the
season.”
“You took me for what I was, Peter,” Mrs. Odd remarked as they
retraced their steps towards the house. “I have never pretended,
have I? You knew that I was a society beauty and that only. I am a
very shallow person, I suppose, Peter; I certainly can’t pretend to
have depths—even to give Mary satisfaction. It would be too
uncomfortable. Why did you fall in love with me, Peter? It wasn’t en
caractère a bit, you know.”
“Oh yes, it was, Ally. I fell in love with you because you were
beautiful. Why did you fall in love with me?”
The mockery with which Alicia’s smile was tinged deepened into a
good-humored laugh at her own expense.
“Well, Peter, I don’t think any one before made me feel that they
thought me so beautiful. I am vain, you know. Your enthusiasm was
awfully flattering. I am very sorry you idealized me, Peter. I am sure
you idealized me. Shall we go in? Lunch must be ready, and you
must be hungrier than ever.”
 CHAPTER III

A T four that afternoon Odd, his wife, and Mary started for the
Archinards’ house. Mary had offered to join her brother; the
prospect of the walk together was very pleasant. She could not
object when Alicia, at the last moment, announced her intention of
going too.
“I have never been to see her. I should like the walk, and Mary will
approve of the fulfilment of my duty towards my neighbor.”
Mary’s prospects were decidedly nipped in the bud, as Alicia
perhaps intended that they should be; but Alicia’s avowed motive
was so praiseworthy that Mary allowed herself only an inner
discontent, and, what with her good-humored demeanor, Odd’s
placid chat of crops and tenantry, and Alicia’s acquiescent beauty,
the trio seemed to enjoy the mile of beechwood and country road
and the short sweep of prettily wooded drive that led to Allersley
Priory, a square stone house covered with vines of magnolia and
wisteria, and incorporating in its walls, according to tradition,
portions of the old Priory which once occupied the site. From the
back of the house sloped a wide expanse of lawn and shrubberies,
and past it ran the river that half a mile further on flowed out of
Captain Archinard’s little property into Odd’s. The drawing-room was
on the ground-floor, and its windows opened on this view.
Mrs. Archinard and the Captain were talking to young Lord Allan
Hope, eldest son of Lord Mainwaring. Mrs. Archinard’s invalidism was
evidently not altogether fictitious. She had a look of at once extreme
fragility and fading beauty. One knew at the first glance that she was
a woman to have cushions behind her and her back to the light.
There was no character in the delicate head, unless one can call a
passive determination to do or feel nothing that required energy,
character.
The two little girls came in while Odd talked to their father. They
were dressed alike in white muslins. Katherine’s gown reached her
ankles; Hilda’s was still at the mi-jambe stage. Their long hair fell
about their faces in childlike fashion. Katherine’s was brown and
strongly rippled; Hilda’s softly, duskily, almost bluely black; it grew in
charming curves and eddies about her forehead, and framed her
little face and long slim neck in straightly falling lines.
Katherine gave Odd her hand with a little air that reminded him of
a Velasquez Infanta holding out a flower.
“You were splendid this morning, Mr. Odd. That hole was no joke,
and Hilda swallowed lots of water as it was. She might easily have
been drowned.”
Katherine was certainly not pretty, but her deeply set black eyes
had a dominant directness. She held her head up, and her smile was
charming—a little girl’s smile, yet touched with the conscious power
of a clever woman. Odd felt that the child was clever, and that the
woman would be cleverer. He felt, too, that the black eyes were lit
with just a spice of fun as they looked into his as though she knew
that he knew, and they both knew together, that Hilda had not been
in much danger, and that his ducking had been only conventionally
“splendid.”
“Hilda wants to thank you herself, don’t you, Hilda? She had such
a horrid time altogether; you were a sort of Perseus to her, and papa
the sea monster!” Then Katherine, having, as it were, introduced
and paved the way for her sister, went back across the room again,
and stood by young Allan Hope while he talked to the beautiful Mrs.
Odd.
Hilda seemed really in no need of an introduction. She was not
shy, though she evidently had not her sister’s ready mastery of what
to say, and how to say it. Odd was rather glad of this; he had found
Katherine’s aplomb almost disconcerting.
“I do thank you very much.” She put her hand into Odd’s as he
spoke, and left it there; the confiding little action emphasized her
childlikeness.
“What did you think of as you went down?” he asked her.
“In the river?” A shade of retrospective terror crossed her face.
 “No, no! we won’t talk about the river, will we?” Odd said quickly.
However funny Katherine’s greater common sense had found the
incident, it had not been funny to Hilda. “Have you lived here long?”
he asked. Captain Archinard had joined Mrs. Odd, and with an
admirer on either side, Alicia was enjoying herself. “I have never
seen you before, you know.”
“We have lived here since my uncle died; about eight years ago, I
think.”
“Yes, just about the time that I left Allersley.”
“Didn’t you like Allersley?” Hilda asked, with some wonder.
“Oh, very much; and my father was here, so I often came back;
but I lived in London and Paris, where I could work at things that
interested me.”
“I have been twice in London; I went to the National Gallery.”
“You liked that?”
“Oh, very much.” She was a quiet little girl, and spoke quietly, her
wide gentle gaze on Odd.
“And what else did you like in London?”
Hilda smiled a little, as if conscious that she was being put
through the proper routine of questions, but a trustful smile, quite
willing to give all information asked for.
“The Three Fates.”
“You mean the Elgin Marbles?”
“Yes, with no heads; but one is rather glad they haven’t.”
“Why?” asked Odd, as she paused. Hilda did not seem sure of her
own reason.
“Perhaps they would be too beautiful with heads,” she suggested.
“Do you like dogs?” she added, suddenly turning the tables on him.
“Yes, I love dogs,” Odd replied, with sincere enthusiasm.
“Three of our dogs are out there on the verandah, if you would
care to know them?”
 “I should very much. Perhaps you’ll show me the garden too; it
looks very jolly.”
It was a pleasure to look at his extraordinarily pretty little
Andromeda, and he was quite willing to spend the rest of his visit
with her. They went out on the verandah, where, in the awning’s
shade, lay two very nice fox terriers. A dachshund sat gazing out
upon the sunlit lawn in a dog’s dignified reverie.
“Jack and Vic,” Hilda said, pointing out the two fox terriers. “They
just belong to the whole family, you know. And this dear old fellow is
Palamon; Arcite is somewhere about; they are mine.”
“Who named yours?”
“I did—after I read it; they had other names when they were
given to me, but as I had never called them by them, I thought I
had a right to change them. I wanted names with associations, like
Katherine’s setters; they are called Darwin and Spencer, because
Katherine is very fond of science.”
“Oh, is she?” said Odd, rather stupefied. “You seem to have a
great many dogs in couples.”
“The others are not; they are more general dogs, like Jack and
Vic.”
Hilda still held Odd’s hand: she stooped to stroke Arcite’s pensive
head, giving the fox terriers a pat as they passed them.
“So you are fond of Chaucer?” Odd said. They crossed the gravel
path and stepped on the lawn.
“Yes, indeed, he is my favorite poet. I have not read all, you know,
but especially the Knight’s Tale.”
“That’s your favorite?”
“Yes.”
“And what is your favorite part of the Knight’s Tale?”
“The part where Arcite dies.”
“You like that?”
“Oh! so much; don’t you?”
 “Very much; as much, perhaps, as anything ever written. There
never was a more perfect piece of pathos. Perhaps you remember
it.” He was rather curious to know how deep was this love for
Chaucer.
“I learnt it by heart; I haven’t a good memory, but I liked it so
much.”
“Perhaps you would say it to me.”
Hilda looked up a little shyly.
“Oh, I can’t!” she exclaimed timidly.
“Can’t you?” and Odd looked down at her a humorously pleading
interrogation.
“I can’t say things well; and it is too sad to say—one can just bear
to read it.”
“Just bear to say it—this once,” Odd entreated.
They had reached the edge of the lawn, and stood on the grassy
brink of the river. Hilda looked down into the clear running of the
water.
“Isn’t it pretty? I don’t like deep water, where one can’t see the
bottom; here the grasses and the pebbles are as distinct as possible,
and the minnows—don’t you like to see them?”
“Yes, but Arcite. Don’t make me tease you.”
Hilda evidently determined not to play the coward a second time.
The quiet pressure of Odd’s hand was encouraging, and in a gentle,
monotonous little voice that, with the soft breeze, the quickly
running sunlit river, went into Odd’s consciousness as a quaint,
ineffaceable impression of sweetness and sadness, she recited:—

“Allas the wo! allas the peynes stronge,

That I for you have suffered, and so longe!
Allas the deth! allas myn Emelye!
Allas departing of our companye!
Allas myn hertes quene! allas, my wyf!
Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf!
 What is this world? What asketh man to have?
Now with his love, now in his colde grave
Allone, withouten any companye.”
Odd’s artistic sensibilities were very keen. He felt that painfully
delicious constriction of the throat that the beautiful in art can give,
especially the beautiful in tragic art. The far-away tale; the far-away
tongue; the nearness of the pathos, poignant in its “white simplicity.”
And how well the monotonous little voice suited its melancholy.

“Allone, withouten any companye,”

he repeated. He looked down at Hilda; he had tactfully avoided

looking at her while she spoke, fearing to embarrass her; her eyes
were full of tears.
“Thanks, Hilda,” he said. It struck him that this highly strung little
girl had best not be allowed to dwell too long on Arcite and, after a
sympathetic pause (Odd was a very sympathetic person), he added:
“Now are you going to take me into the garden?”
“Yes.” Hilda turned from the river. “You know he had just gained
her, that made it all the worse. If he had not loved her he would not
have minded dying so much, and being alone. One can hardly bear
it,” Hilda repeated.
“It is intensely sad. I don’t think you ought to have learned it by
heart, Hilda. That’s ungrateful of me, isn’t it? But I am old enough to
take an impersonal pleasure in sad things; I am afraid they make
you sad.”
Hilda’s half-wondering smile was reassuringly childlike.
“Oh, but it’s nice being sad like that.”
Odd reflected, as they went into the garden, that she had put
herself into his category.
After the shadow of the shrubberies through which they passed,
the fragrant sunlight was dazzling. Rows of sweet peas, their
mauves and pinks and whites like exquisite musical motives, ran
across the delicious old garden. A border of deep purple pansies
struck a beautifully meditative chord. Flowers always affected Odd
musically; he half closed his eyes to look at the sweeps of sun-
flooded color. A medley of Schumann and Beethoven sang through
his head as he glanced down, smiling at Hilda Archinard; her gently
responsive little smile was funnily comprehensive; one might imagine
that tunes were going through her head too.
“Isn’t it jolly, Hilda?”
“Very jolly,” she laughed, and, as they walked between the pansy
borders she kept her gentle smile and her gentle stare up at his
appreciative face.
She thought his smile so nice; his teeth, which crowded forward a
little, lent it perhaps its peculiar sweetness; his eyelids, drooping at
the outer corners, gave the curious look of humorous sadness to the
expression of his brown eyes. His moustache was cut shortly on his
upper lip, and showed the rather quizzical line of his mouth. Hilda,
unconsciously, enumerated this catalogue of impressions.
“What fine strawberries,” said Odd. “I like the fragrance almost
more than the flavor.”
“But won’t you taste them?” Hilda dropped his hand to skip lightly
into the strawberry bed. “They are ripe, lots of them,” she
announced, and she came running back, her outstretched hands full
of the summer fruit, red, but for the tips, still untinted. The sunlit
white frock, the long curves of black hair, the white face, slim black
legs, and the spots of crimson color made a picture—a sunshiny
Whistler.
Odd accepted the strawberries gratefully; they were very fine.
“I don’t think you can have them better at Allersley Manor,” said
Hilda, smiling.
“I don’t think mine are as good. Won’t you come some day to
Allersley Manor and compare?”
“I should like to very much.”
“Then you and Miss Katherine shall be formally invited to tea, with
the understanding that afterwards the strawberry beds are to be
invaded.”
“I should like to very much,” Hilda repeated.
“Hullo! Don’t make me feel a pig! Eat some yourself,” said Odd,
who had finished one handful.
“No, no, I picked them for you.”
Odd took her disengaged hand in his as they walked on again,
Hilda resisting at first.
“It is so sticky.”
“I don’t mind that: it is very generous.” She laughed at the
extravagance.
“And what do you do all day besides swimming?” Odd asked.
“We have lessons with our governess. She is strict, but a splendid
teacher. Katherine is quite a first-rate Latin scholar.”
“Is Katherine fond of Chaucer?”
“Katherine cares more for science and—and philosophy.” Hilda
spoke with a respectful gravity. “That’s why she called her dogs
Darwin and Spencer. She hasn’t read any of Spencer yet, but of
course he is a great philosopher. She knows that, and she has read a
good deal of a big book by Darwin, ‘The Origin of Species,’ you
know.”
“Yes, I know.” Odd found Katherine even more startling than her
sister.
“I tried to read it, but it was so confusing—about selection and
cabbages—I don’t see how cabbages can select, do you?” Hilda’s
voice held a reminiscent vagueness. “Katherine says that she did not
care for it much, but she thought she ought to look through it if she
wanted a foundation; she is very keen on foundations, and she says
Darwin is the foundation-key—or corner-stone—no, keystone to the
arch of modern science—at least she did not say so, but she read
me that from her journal.”
“Oh! Katherine wrote that, did she?”
“Yes; but you mustn’t think that Katherine is a blue-stocking.”
Something in Odd’s tone made Hilda fear misunderstanding. “She
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