“Yes, that after all marks the difference between people like Katie who are close to the earth, and those who do get up in a metaphysical balloon. Katie comforts herself with promises of a red plush heaven full of harps, where she at the age of seventy-three will repair in a white robe to rejoin her Billy, still twelve; whereas the savants who see the world as an ant-heap are not appalled at the thought of personal obliteration, I for one think it’s rather a lark to be a sort of caricature on a school blackboard for three score and ten years then turn into a thin cloud of chalk dust when higher forces rub you off; it’s fun to speculate on the future of the particles of chalk in the cloud.”
Louise confessed that she could not gloat over the prospect, but let it be understood that, for the sake of feeling herself floating in the air amongst a distinguished metaphysical crew, including Dare, she cheerfully accepted the principle. Then something made her lean forward and gaze towards a distant bend in the road.
“Look! That’s them!”
“What’s who?” Dare asked, and added, “grammar be blowed!”
Three touring cars, an unprecedented sight, were winding their way up from the direction of the Valley.
“Keble’s telegram said this evening,” Louise explained, with a blank look at her companion, followed by a glance at her wrist watch. “And it’s not three o’clock yet. Thank heaven Miriam is at home to give them tea.”
“Them” referred to the English travelers, whose visit had been postponed in order that it might be embraced in a western tour which Lord Eveley and his assistants in the Colonial Office were scheduled to make on Imperial business. Keble had left the ranch a few days before to meet them in Calgary and guide them hither. All through the spring and summer he had been bringing his building work to completion, and Dare had been on hand several weeks now, partly in the rôle of contractor, partly in the rôle of friend. He had remained for the celebrations before proceeding to Japan, where he was to make notes and sketches for a commission in California.
“What a pity you won’t be on hand to receive them,” Dare sympathized.
Louise flicked her switch rebelliously. “If they say evening, they can’t expect me to know they mean afternoon. There’s no reconciling that discrepancy whether you call time qualitative multiplicity or plain duration. And they’ll just have to wait.” She smiled maliciously. “I hope they’ll look blank at each other and say, ‘Just as I thought’.”
“Why? So you can fool them all by being excessively correct?”