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exertions； until； quite at the summit of the hill and last of a
straggling line of little cottages half submerged in drifting sand；
he stood upon his own humble porch。
〃I was thinking； coming up the hill； Loo；〃 he said； bursting into
the sitting…room； pantingly； 〃of writing something about the future
of the hill！ How it will look fifty years from now； all terraced
with houses and gardens！and right up here a kind of Acropolis；
don't you know。 I had quite a picture of it in my mind just now。〃
A plainly…dressed young woman with a pretty face； that； however；
looked as if it had been prematurely sapped of color and vitality；
here laid aside some white sewing she had in her lap； and said：
〃But you did that once before； Milty； and you know the 〃Herald〃
wouldn't take it because they said it was a free notice of Mr。
Boorem's building lots； and he didn't advertise in the 〃Herald。〃 I
always told you that you ought to have seen Boorem first。〃
The young fellow blinked his eyes with a momentary arrest of that
buoyant hopefulness which was their peculiar characteristic； but
nevertheless replied with undaunted cheerfulness； 〃I forgot。
Anyhow； it's all the same； for I worked it into that 'Sunday Walk。'
And it's just as easy to write it the other way； you see；looking
back； DOWN THE HILL； you know。 Something about the old Padres
toiling through the sand just before the Angelus； or as far back as
Sir Francis Drake's time； and have a runaway boat's crew； coming
ashore to look for gold that the Mexicans had talked of。 Lord！
that's easy enough！ I tell you what； Loo； it's worth living up
here just for the inspiration。〃 Even while boyishly exhaling this
enthusiasm he was also divesting himself of certain bundles whose
contents seemed to imply that he had brought his dinner with him；
the youthful Mrs。 Harcourt setting the table in a perfunctory；
listless way that contrasted oddly with her husband's cheerful
energy。
〃You haven't heard of any regular situation yet？〃 she asked
abstractedly。
〃No；not exactly；〃 he replied。 〃But ＇buoyantly＇ it's a great deal
better for me not to take anything in a hurry and tie myself to any
particular line。 Now； I'm quite free。〃
〃And I suppose you haven't seen that Mr。 Fletcher again？〃 she
continued。
〃No。 He only wanted to know something about me。 That's the way
with them all； Loo。 Whenever I apply for work anywhere it's
always： 'So you're Dan'l Harcourt's son； eh？ Quarreled with the
old man？ Bad job； better make it up！ You'll make more stickin' to
him。 He's worth millions！' Everybody seems to think everything of
HIM； as if I had no individuality beyond that； I've a good mind to
change my name。〃
〃And pray what would mine be then？〃
There was so much irritation in her voice that he drew nearer her
and gently put his arm around her waist。 〃Why； whatever mine was；
darling；〃 he said with a tender smile。 〃You didn't fall in love
with any particular name； did you； Loo？〃
〃No； but I married a particular one；〃 she said quickly。
His eyelids quivered again； as if he was avoiding some unpleasantly
staring suggestion； and she stopped。
〃You know what I mean； dear；〃 she said； with a quick little laugh。
〃Just because your father's an old crosspatch； YOU haven't lost
your rights to his name and property。 And those people who say you
ought to make it up perhaps know what's for the best。〃
〃But you remember what he said of you； Loo？〃 said the young man
with a flashing eye。 〃Do you think I can ever forget that？〃
〃But you DO forget it； dear； you forget it when you go in town
among fresh faces and people； when you are looking for work。 You
forget it when you're at work writing your copy；for I've seen you
smile as you wrote。 You forget it climbing up the dreadful sand；
for you were thinking just now of what happened years ago； or is to
happen years to come。 And I want to forget it too； Milty。 I don't
want to sit here all day； thinking of it； with the wind driving the
sand against the window； and nothing to look at but those white
tombs in Lone Mountain Cemetery； and those white caps that might be
gravestones too； and not a soul to talk to or even see pass by
until I feel as if I were dead and buried also。 If you were me
youyouyoucouldn't help crying too！〃
Indeed he was very near it now。 For as he caught her in his arms；
suddenly seeing with a lover's sympathy and the poet's swifter
imagination all that she had seen and even more； he was aghast at
the vision conjured。 In her delicate health and loneliness how
dreadful must have been these monotonous days； and this glittering；
cruel sea！ What a selfish brute he was！ Yet as he stood there
holding her； silently and rhythmically marking his tenderness and
remorseful feelings by rocking her from side to side like a languid
metronome； she quietly disengaged her wet lashes from his shoulder
and said in quite another tone：
〃So they were all at Tasajara last week？〃
〃Who； dear？〃
〃Your father and sisters。〃
〃Yes；〃 said John Milton； hesitatingly。
〃And they've taken back your sister after her divorce？〃
The staring obtrusiveness of this fact apparently made her
husband's bright sympathetic eye blink as before。
〃And if you were to divorce me； YOU would be taken back too；〃 she
added quickly； suddenly withdrawing herself with a pettish movement
and walking to the window。
But he followed。 〃Don't talk in that way； Loo！ Don't look in that
way； dear！〃 he said； taking her hand gently； yet not without a
sense of some inconsistency in her conduct that jarred upon his own
simple directness。 〃You know that nothing can part us now。 I was
wrong to let my little girl worry herself all alone here； but II
thought it was all soso bright and free out on this hill；
looking far away beyond the Golden Gate；as far as Cathay； you
know； and such a change from those dismal flats of Tasajara and
that awful stretch of tules。 But it's all right now。 And now that
I know how you feel； we'll go elsewhere。〃
She did not reply。 Perhaps she found it difficult to keep up her
injured attitude in the face of her husband's gentleness。 Perhaps
her attention had been attracted by the unusual spectacle of a
stranger； who had just mounted the hill and was now slowly passing
along the line of cottages with a hesitating air of inquiry。 〃He
may be looking for this house；for you；〃 she said in an entirely
new tone of interest。 〃Run out and see。 It may be some one who
wants〃
〃An article；〃 said Milton cheerfully。 〃By Jove！ he IS coming
here。〃
The stranger was indeed approaching the little cottage； and with
apparently some confidence。 He was a well…dressed； well…made man；
whose age looked uncertain from the contrast between his heavy
brown moustache and his hair； that； curling under the brim of his
hat； was almost white in color。 The young man started； and said；
hurriedly： 〃I really believe it is Fletcher；they say his hair
turned white from the Panama fever。〃
It was indeed Mr。 Fletcher who entered and introduced himself；
a gentle reserved man； with something of that colorlessness of
premature age in his speech which was observable in his hair。 He
had heard of Mr。 Harcourt from a friend who had recommended him
highly。 As Mr。 Harcourt had probably been told； he； the speaker；
was about to embark some capital in a first…class newspaper in San
Francisco； and should select the staff himself。 He wanted to
secure only first…rate talent；but above all； youthfulness；
directness； and originality。 The 〃Clarion；〃 for that was to be
its name； was to have nothing 〃old fogy〃 about it。 No。 It was
distinctly to be the organ of Young California！ This and much more
from the grave lips of the elderly young man； whose speech seemed
to be divided between the pretty； but equally faded； young wife；
and the one personification of invincible youth present；her
husband。
〃But I fear I have interrupted your household duties；〃 he said
pleasantly。 〃You were preparing dinner。 Pray go on。 And let me
help you；I'm not a bad cook；and you can give me my reward by
letting me share it with you； for the climb up here has sharpened
my appetite。 We can talk as we go on。〃
It was in vain to protest； there was something paternal as well as
practical in the camaraderie of this actual capitalist and possible
Maecenas and patron as he quietly hung up his hat and overcoat； and
helped to set the table with a practiced hand。 Nor； as he
suggested； did the conversation falter； and before they had taken
their seats at the frugal board he had already engaged John Milton
Harcourt as assistant editor of the 〃Clarion〃 at a salary that
seemed princely to this son of a millionaire！ The young wife
meantime had taken active part in the discussion； whether it was
vaguely understood that the possession of poetical and imaginative
fa