Jewel Weed

According to his promise, Dick presented himself at Ellery's office on

the next afternoon. He wore a brisk and moving air.

"Miss Quincy is not here to-day," Norris said without looking up.

"I know it," Dick answered promptly. "Are you through yet?"

"I've finished with the ephemeræ of this particular Tuesday, and before

I begin on those of Wednesday, I have a few precious moments to waste on

you." Ellery wheeled his chair around.

"Do you know that this is Decoration Day and a holiday?"

"Is there anything a sub-editor does not know?"

"Have you ever been to the Falls of Wabeno?"

"No."

"And you call yourself a true citizen of St. Etienne? Come with me and

see the populace chew gum amid scenes of natural beauty."

"I thought we were going to agitate civic reform."

"We'll agitate as we go along. Come, Ellery, it's a superb day. I feel

like the bursting buds. Let's get out."

"My dear Dick," said Norris, "the trouble with you is that you never

want to do anything; you always want to do something else. I begin to

think that there are compensations to a man in having fate hold his nose

to the grindstone. He learns persistence, willy-nilly."

"Stop your growling. Up, William, up, and quit your galley-proof. I am

willing to bet that my flashes in the pan will do things before I am

through."

"I dare swear they will get way ahead of my grubbing," Ellery rejoined,

slamming his desk. "Come, I'll go with you."

On the southern outskirts of the city lay a park where art had done no

more than retouch nature. Here a placid stream suddenly transformed

itself into an imposing waterfall, plunging with roars over a rocky

cliff, and sending its spray whirling high in air to paint a hundred

illusive rainbows amid outstretching tree-branches or against a somber

background of stone.

Dick left his motor near the brink of the cliff above the Falls and the

two climbed down the steep bank, stopping now and again to yield to the

fascination of rushing water and to snuff the fresh-flying mist as it

swept into their faces.

Caught in the gully below, the stream, which had suddenly contracted a

habit of unruliness, tumbled onward under trees and through overhanging

rocks until it joined the Mississippi a half-mile away.

There were other people, hordes of them, tempted by May sunshine.

"What is it, Ellery," Dick demanded, "what deep-seated idealism is it

that draws these crowds to the most beautiful spot near town as soon as

spring offers more than half an invitation?"

"It certainly isn't a poetry that crops out in their clothes or in their

conversation," Norris grumbled. "The staple remark seems to be, 'Gee,

ain't it pretty?'"