"Who would it be, Philip?" asked Celia, with a smile.
"Simeon Stylites, perhaps," said Philip, drily. "I would quite as soon be the one as the other!"
"I don't know who he was," replied Celia.
"A gentleman of the olden time, who worked out his salvation for forty years on the top of a tall pillar," was the answer, accompanied by an expression of countenance which Celia had seen before in Philip, and could not understand. "Are you tired?" he added, suddenly.
"Scarcely, yet," she answered; "it is all so new to me. But what time is it, Philip?"
Philip pulled out a watch about three inches in diameter.
"Ten minutes to one."
"Do you mean to say it is one o'clock in the morning?" asked Celia, in a voice of unmitigated amazement and horror.
"It certainly is not one o'clock in the afternoon," replied Philip, with much gravity.
"I had no idea how late it was! Let me go, Philip, please do."