they could even hear it break and part upon the stones。
〃Moon；〃 said Arthur Inglewood； rather huskily； 〃you mustn't be
so bitter about it。 Everyone has to take the world as he finds it；
of course one often finds it a bit dull〃
〃That fellow doesn't；〃 said Michael decisively； 〃I mean that
fellow Smith。 I have a fancy there's some method in his madness。
It looks as if he could turn into a sort of wonderland any minute by taking
one step out of the plain road。 Who would have thought of that trapdoor？
Who would have thought that this cursed colonial claret could taste quite
nice among the chimney…pots？ Perhaps that is the real key of fairyland。
Perhaps Nosey Gould's beastly little Empire Cigarettes ought only to
be smoked on stilts； or something of that sort。 Perhaps Mrs。 Duke's
cold leg of mutton would seem quite appetizing at the top of a tree。
Perhaps even my damned； dirty； monotonous drizzle of Old Bill Whisky〃
〃Don't be so rough on yourself；〃 said Inglewood； in serious distress。
〃The dullness isn't your fault or the whisky's。 Fellows who don't
fellows like me I meanhave just the same feeling that it's all rather
flat and a failure。 But the world's made like that； it's all survival。
Some people are made to get on； like Warner； and some people are
made to stick quiet； like me。 You can't help your temperament。
I know you're much cleverer than I am； but you can't help having
all the loose ways of a poor literary chap； and I can't help
having all the doubts and helplessness of a small scientific chap；
any more than a fish can help floating or a fern can help curling up。
Humanity； as Warner said so well in that lecture； really consists
of quite different tribes of animals all disguised as men。〃
In the dim garden below the buzz of talk was suddenly broken
by Miss Hunt's musical instrument banging with the abruptness
of artillery into a vulgar but spirited tune。
Rosamund's voice came up rich and strong in the words of some fatuous；
fashionable coon song
〃Darkies sing a song on the old plantation；
Sing it as we sang it in days long since gone by。〃
Inglewood's brown eyes softened and saddened still more as he continued
his monologue of resignation to such a rollicking and romantic tune。
But the blue eyes of Michael Moon brightened and hardened with a light
that Inglewood did not understand。 Many centuries； and many villages
and valleys； would have been happier if Inglewood or Inglewood's countrymen
had ever understood that light； or guessed at the first blink that it
was the battle star of Ireland。
〃Nothing can ever alter it； it's in the wheels of the universe；〃
went on Inglewood； in a low voice： 〃some men are weak and some strong；
and the only thing we can do is to know that we are weak。
I have been in love lots of times； but I could not do anything；
for I remembered my own fickleness。 I have formed opinions； but I
haven't the cheek to push them； because I've so often changed them。
That's the upshot； old fellow。 We can't trust ourselves
and we can't help it。〃
Michael had risen to his feet； and stood poised in a perilous position
at the end of the roof； like some dark statue hung above its gable。
Behind him； huge clouds of an almost impossible purple turned slowly
topsy…turvy in the silent anarchy of heaven。 Their gyration made
the dark figure seem yet dizzier。
〃Let us。。。〃 he said； and was suddenly silent。
〃Let us what？〃 asked Arthur Inglewood； rising equally quick though somewhat
more cautiously； for his friend seemed to find some difficulty in speech。
〃Let us go and do some of these things we can't do；〃 said Michael。
At the same moment there burst out of the trapdoor below them
the cockatoo hair and flushed face of Innocent Smith； calling to
them that they must come down as the 〃concert〃 was in full swing；
and Mr。 Moses Gould was about to recite 〃Young Lochinvar。〃
As they dropped into Innocent's attic they nearly tumbled over its
entertaining impedimenta again。 Inglewood； staring at the littered floor；
thought instinctively of the littered floor of a nursery。
He was therefore the more moved； and even shocked； when his eye fell
on a large well…polished American revolver。
〃Hullo！〃 he cried； stepping back from the steely glitter as men step back
from a serpent； 〃are you afraid of burglars？ or when and why do you deal
death out of that machine gun？〃
〃Oh； that！〃 said Smith； throwing it a single glance； 〃I deal life
out of that；〃 and he went bounding down the stairs。
Chapter III
The Banner of Beacon
All next day at Beacon House there was a crazy sense that it was
everybody's birthday。 It is the fashion to talk of institutions
as cold and cramping things。 The truth is that when people are in
exceptionally high spirits； really wild with freedom and invention；
they always must； and they always do； create institutions。
When men are weary they fall into anarchy； but while they are gay
and vigorous they invariably make rules。 This； which is true of all
the churches and republics of history； is also true of the most
trivial parlour game or the most unsophisticated meadow romp。
We are never free until some institution frees us； and liberty
cannot exist till it is declared by authority。 Even the wild
authority of the harlequin Smith was still authority； because it
produced everywhere a crop of crazy regulations and conditions。
He filled every one with his own half…lunatic life； but it was not
expressed in destruction； but rather in a dizzy and toppling construction。
Each person with a hobby found it turning into an institution。
Rosamund's songs seemed to coalesce into a kind of opera；
Michael's jests and paragraphs into a magazine。 His pipe and her
mandoline seemed between them to make a sort of smoking concert。
The bashful and bewildered Arthur Inglewood almost struggled against his
own growing importance。 He felt as if； in spite of him； his photographs
were turning into a picture gallery； and his bicycle into a gymkhana。
But no one had any time to criticize these impromptu estates and offices；
for they followed each other in wild succession like the topics
of a rambling talker。
Existence with such a man was an obstacle race made out of
pleasant obstacles。 Out of any homely and trivial object he could
drag reels of exaggeration； like a conjurer。 Nothing could
be more shy and impersonal than poor Arthur's photography。
Yet the preposterous Smith was seen assisting him eagerly through
sunny morning hours； and an indefensible sequence described
as 〃Moral Photography〃 began to unroll about the boarding…house。
It was only a version of the old photographer's joke which
produces the same figure twice on one plate； making a man
play chess with himself； dine with himself； and so on。
But these plates were more hysterical and ambitiousas； 〃Miss Hunt
forgets Herself；〃 showing that lady answering her own too
rapturous recognition with a most appalling stare of ignorance；
or 〃Mr。 Moon questions Himself；〃 in which Mr。 Moon appeared as one
driven to madness under his own legal cross…examination； which was
conducted with a long forefinger and an air of ferocious waggery。
One highly successful trilogyrepresenting Inglewood recognizing
Inglewood； Inglewood prostrating himself before Inglewood；
and Inglewood severely beating Inglewood with a stick
Innocent Smith wanted to have enlarged and put up in the hall；
like a sort of fresco； with the inscription；
〃Self…reverence； self…knowledge； self…control
These three alone will make a man a prig。〃
Tennyson。
Nothing； again； could be more prosaic and impenetrable than
the domestic energies of Miss Diana Duke。 But Innocent had somehow
blundered on the discovery that her thrifty dressmaking went
with a considerable feminine care for dressthe one feminine thing
that had never failed her solitary self…respect。 In consequence Smith
pestered her with a theory （which he really seemed to take seriously）
that ladies might combine economy with magnificence if they would
draw light chalk patterns on a plain dress and then dust them
off again。 He set up 〃Smith's Lightning Dressmaking Company；〃
with two screens； a cardboard placard； and box of bright soft crayons；
and Miss Diana actually threw him an abandoned black overall
or working dress on which to exercise the talents of a modiste。
He promptly produced for her a garment aflame with red and gold sunflowers；
she held it up an instant to her shoulders； and looked like an empress。
And Arthur Inglewood； some hours afterwards cleaning his bicycle
（with his usual air of being inextricably hidden in it）； glanced up；
and his hot face grew hotter； for Diana stood laughing for one
flash in the doorway； and her dark robe was rich with the green
and purple of great decorative peacocks； like a secret garden
in the 〃Arabian Nights。〃 A pang too swift to be named pain
or pleasure went through his heart like an old…world rapier。
He remembered how pretty he thought her years ago； when he was
ready to fall in love with anybody； but it was like remembering
a worship of