would ever get out of bounds! A mere half sister of Rhoda's mother, thereby a descendant of Colonial Governors and unscathed by roofing, she was, as one could see at a glance, all for the Pluperfect Subjunctive. The very chairs in her front parlor were placed where they ought to be, not at all where one would by nature have sat, unless one were really a prisstail. The only solecism was a half consumed loaf of sugar on the floor, let fall by Judy, an obese spaniel.
Rhoda returned her aunt's kiss deferentially and sat down by the fire which even on this May afternoon was not ungrammatical. Grover was reflecting that the landscape on the wall, full of waterfalls, would be a Thomas Moran if he, Grover Thanet, were only a little surer of art, which, again God Willing, he soon would be. He also reflected that the gift volume of Goldoni had never been perused, and that the little Diana with a hare-lip and a suggestion of corsets might have been done by Queen Victoria herself, had that lady gone in for sculpture.
"How is your dear mother, Mr. Thanet?" asked Miss Pearn. Grover hadn't even known that his mother was acquainted with Miss Pearn, much less dear to her. He was sorry to say she had been ill. For that matter had he ever been able to say that his mother was well, in the sense that other people's mothers were?
"And what are you planning to make of yourself?"
He supposed Miss Pearn's warm little smile, thor-
