“Not necessarily. I give way to no man in my determination to do justice to my fellow creatures, irrespective of the number of legs with which they are equipped. As the Professor has left us in undisputed possession for the next six months, there’s no telling what we may accomplish. What sort of voice has Reginald?”
“George, I shan’t tell you another thing!”
“There, there. It merely occurred to me that, as neither you nor I nor Arthur sings—By the way, Galatea, I suppose Arthur will run over occasionally in his new automobile, the lucky beggar?”
“I lay claim to no advance information respecting Arthur’s intentions,” answered the Poet’s sister, in cool, even tones. The flapping brim of her headgear was between the Poet’s eyes and her cheek, suddenly turned pink.
“Oh, well, I was only thinking what a boon Arthur’s banjo and my guitar would turn out to be if the pig should develop a romantic tenor voice. By Jove, Galatea! If that’s the place, I apologize for everything.”
They had reached the turn of the road that overlooked their summer Elysium. The Poet distributed his joints over another roadside boulder, while Galatea stood by his side, and gave his attention to the charming scene in detail.
“Really, a fine, rambling old house surrounded by shaded verandas below, and not too near the road. A stone-walled inclosure of half a dozen acres sloping down to a pretty brook that flows under the lower wall just below the barn—a comfortable red barn; a barn that isn’t red is only half a barn. A kitchen-garden and an orchard, and the rest pasture that is neat enough for a lawn. What romps we shall have, Galatea, with the colt and the bull-calf! What’s that vine-covered affair reared against the west gable of the house? Oh, a water-tank. Just so; there’s a pipe connecting underground with the brook, and that wind-wheel on the barn roof does the pumping. Good! I anticipate the luxury of an occasional tub. I was afraid Elysium was like Germany—lots of romance and no bathtubs. Galatea, we shall do—we shall do beautifully. But I say, what’s that funny-looking thing on the peak of the house roof?”
“Isn’t it the chimney?”
“It looks to me like a saw-horse.”
They walked on. After passing through a grove of chestnuts, they had a nearer and better view of the house.