Where Town and Country Meet 



for all he had ever said in contempt of im- 

 pressionist painters. 



My wife, with a woman's first instinct 

 upon stepping over a threshold, ran her 

 finger along the table-cover, and daintily 

 touched the dishes in the cupboard, as we 

 carried our dirty plates and cups inside. 



"Why !" she exclaimed. "Have you been 

 dusting ?" 



"No, I have not," I replied. "I never do 

 such a thing." 



"Is n't it strange ?" she went on. "There 

 is n't a particle of dust in camp." 



"Dust is something you will not find in 

 unspoiled nature, my dear," I answered. 

 "Civilization, roads, cities, are the dust- 

 breeders. Nature is always tidy. Here, by 

 the marshes and under the trees, she knows 

 nothing of dust." 



My wife looked at me incredulously. "I 

 do n't believe it !" she cried, at length. "You 

 want to get me to say that I should like 

 to live here all the year round, and then you 

 would eagerly declare that it should be as 

 I wish. I know you! Now you may take 

 this pail and go down to the river for dish- 

 water." 



66 



