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s somebody else's son or daughter to whom her sympathy must go。
〃Well； Sallie；〃 she answeredshe was leaning over now； her hands in her lap； apparently with lowered eyelids； but really watching Mrs。 Horn's； face from the corner of her eye〃I don't think we can make a clergyman out of him； do you？〃 Mrs。 Horn frowned； but she did not interrupt。 〃No； we cannot make a parson out of him。 I meant； my love； something in surplices； not in camp…meetings； of course。 Think of those lovely pink cheeks in a high collar and Bishop's sleeves； wouldn't he be too sweet for anything？〃 and she laughed one of her little cooing laughs。 〃Nor a doctor；〃 she continued； with a slight interrogation in her tone； 〃nor a shopkeeper； nor a painter〃and she shot a quick glance from under her arching eyebrows at her companion but Mrs。 Horn's face gave no sign〃nor a musician。 Why not a musician； Sallie； he sings like an angel； you know？〃 She was planting her shafts all about the target； her eyes following the flight of each arrow。
Mrs。 Horn raised her head and laid her hand firmly on Miss Clendenning's wrist。
〃We won't have him a shopkeeper； Lavinia；〃 she said with some positiveness； 〃nor a barber； nor a painter； nor a cook； nor a dentist。 We'll try and keep him a gentleman； my dear； whatever happens。 As for his being a musician； I think you will agree with me； that music is only possible as an accomplishment； never when it is a profession。 Look at that dear old man over there〃and she pointed to Nathan； who was bending forward running over on his flute some passages from the score； his white hair covering his coat…collar behind〃so absolutely unfitted for this world as he is； so purposeless； so hopelessly inert。 He breathes his whole soul into that flute and yet〃
〃And a good deal comes out of it sometimes； my dearto…night； for instance；〃 laughed Miss Lavinia。 〃Did you catch those bird…like notes？〃
〃Yes； and they thrilled me through and through； but sweet as they are they haven't helped him make a career。〃
At this moment Richard called to Unger； who had been sitting on the sofa in the library； 〃cooling off；〃 he said； as he mopped his head with a red handkerchief； one of Malachi's cups in his hand。
Miss Lavinia caught sight of the 'cellist's advancing figure and rose from her seat。 〃I must go now；〃 she said； 〃they want to play it again。〃 She moved a step forward； gave a glance at her side…curls in the oval mirror over the mantel； stopped hesitatingly； and then bending over Mrs。 Horn said； thoughtfully； her hand on her companion's shoulder； 〃Sallie； don't try to make water run uphill。 If Ollie belonged to me I'd let him follow his tastes； whatever they were。 You'll spoil the shape of his instep if you keep him wearing Chinese shoes；〃 and she floated over to join the group of musicians。
Mrs。 Horn again settled herself in her chair。 She understood now the look on Oliver's face。 She was right then； something was really worrying him。 The talk with Miss Lavinia had greatly disturbed her。 so much so that she could not listen to the music。 Again her eyes rested on Oliver； who had come in and joined the group at the piano； all out of breath with his second run across the Squarethis time to tell Sue of Miss Clendenning's promise。 He was never happy unless he was sharing what was on his mind with another； and if there was a girl within reach he was sure to pour it into her willing ears。
Mrs。 Horn looked at him with a pang about her heart。 From which side of the house had come this fickleness； this instability and love of change in Oliver's character？ she asked herselfa new interest every dayall the traditions of his forefathers violated。 How could she overcome it in him？ how make him more practical？ Years before； when she had thought him proud； she had sent him to market and had made him carry home the basket on his arm； facing the boys who laughed at him。 He had never forgotten the lesson； he was neither proud nor lazy any more。 But what could she do in a situation like this？
Harassed by these doubts her eyes wandered over Oliver's slender； well…knit muscular figure as he stood whispering to Miss Clendenning。 She noticed the fine； glossy hair brushed from the face and worn long in the neck； curling behind the ears。 She noted every movement of his body： the graceful way in which he talked with his hands； using his fingers to accentuate his words； and the way in which he shrugged his shouldersthe shrug of a Frenchman； although not a drop of their blood could be found in his veinsand in the quick lifting of the hand and the sidelong glance of the eye； all so characteristic of Richard when some new thought or theory reached his brain for the first time。 Gradually and unconsciously she began to compare each feature of Oliver's face with that of the father who stood beside him： the alert blue； eyes； overhanging brow and soft silkiness of the hairidentically the name； even the way it lay in the neck。 And again she looked at Richard； drawing the bow as if in a dream。
Instantly a thought entered her mind that drove the blood from her cheeks。 These vacillations of her husband's！ This turning from one thing to another first the law； then these inventions that never lead anywhere； and now Oliver beginning in the same way； almost in the same steps！ Could these traits be handed down to the children？ Would Oliver be like Richard in
Instinctively she stopped short before the disloyal thought could form itself in her brain； straightened herself in her chair； and closed her lips tight。
The music ceased； Nathan laid his flute on the piano； Unger rose。 from his seat； and Richard turned to talk to Miss Clendenning。 But she was unmindful of it allshe still sat in her chair； her eyes searching the blazing logs； her hands in her lap。
Only Malachi with his silver tray recalled her to consciousness。
CHAPTER III
THE OPEN…AIR DRAWING…ROOMS OF KENNIDY SQUARE
If in the long summer days Kennedy Square was haunted by the idle and the weary； in the cool summer nights its dimly lighted paths were alive with the tread of flying feet； and its shadowy benches gay with the music of laughter and merry greetings。
With the going down of the sun； the sidewalks were sprinkled； and the whole street about the Square watered from curb to curb； to cool its sun…baked cobbles。 The doors and windows of all the houses were thrown wide to welcome the fresh night…air； laden with the perfume of magnolia； jasmine； and sweet…smelling box。 Easy…chairs and cushions were brought out and placed on the clean steps of the porches； and the wide piazzas covered with squares of china…matting to make ready for the guests of the evening。
These guests would begin to gather as soon as the twilight settled； the young girls in their pretty muslin frocks and ribbons； the young men in white duck suits and straw hats。 They thronged the cool； well… swept paths； chattered in bunches under the big trees； or settled like birds on the stone seats and benches。 Every few minutes some new group； fresh from their tea…tables； would emerge from one of the houses； poise like a flock of pigeons on the top step； listen to the guiding sound of the distant laughter； and then swoop down in mad frolic； settling in the midst of the main covey； under the big sycamores until roused at the signal of some male bird in a straw hat； or in answer to the call of some bare…headed songstress from across the Square； the whole covey would dash out one of the rickety gates； only to alight again on the stone steps of a neighbor's porch； where their chatter and pipings would last far into the night。
It was extraordinary how； from year to year； these young birds and even the old ones remembered the best perches about the Square。 On Colonel Clayton's ample porticobig enough to shelter half a dozen covies behind its honeysucklesboth young and old would settle side by side； the younger bevy hovering about the Judge's blue…eyed daughtera bird so blithe and of so free a wing； that the flock always followed wherever she alighted。 On Judge Bowman's wide veranda only a few old cocks from the club could be found； and not infrequently； some rare birds from out of town perched about a table alive with the clink of glass and rattle of crushed ice； while next the church； on old Mrs。 Pancoast's portico； with its tall Corinthian columnsMr。 Pancoast was the archdeacon of the Noah's ark churchone or two old grandmothers and a grave old owl of a family doctor were sure to fill the rocking…chairs。 As for Richard Horn's marble steps they were never free from stray young couples who flew in to rest on Malachi's chairs and cushions。 Sometimes only one bird and her mate would be tucked away in the shadow of the doorway； sometimes only an old pair； like Mrs。 Horn and Richard； would occupy its corners。
These porticoes and stone door…steps were really the open…air drawing…rooms of Kennedy Square in the soft summer nights。 Here ices were served and cool drinkssherbets for the young and juleps and sherry cobblers for the old。 At the Horn house； on great occasions； as when some big melon that had lain for days on the cool cellar floor was cut （it was worth a day's journey to see Malachi cut a melon）； the guests would not only crowd