Chapter 12: Twelfth Chapter
"Looking at Italian art. There you are, and yet you talk of
coincidence and Fate. You naturally seek out things Italian, and
so do we and our friends. This narrows the field immeasurably
we meet again in it."
"It is Fate that I am here," persisted George. "But you can call
it Italy if it makes you less unhappy."
Mr. Beebe slid away from such heavy treatment of the subject.
But he was infinitely tolerant of the young, and had no desire
to snub George.
"And so for this and for other reasons my "'History of
Coincidence' is still to write."
Wishing to round off the episode, he added; "We are all so glad
that you have come."
"Here we are!" called Freddy.
"Oh, good!" exclaimed Mr. Beebe, mopping his brow.
"In there's the pond. I wish it was bigger," he added
They climbed down a slippery bank of pine-needles. There lay the
pond, set in its little alp of green--only a pond, but large
enough to contain the human body, and pure enough to reflect the
sky. On account of the rains, the waters had flooded the
surrounding grass, which showed like a beautiful emerald path,
tempting these feet towards the central pool.
"It's distinctly successful, as ponds go," said Mr. Beebe. "No
apologies are necessary for the pond."
George sat down where the ground was dry, and drearily unlaced
"Aren't those masses of willow-herb splendid? I love willow-herb
in seed. What's the name of this aromatic plant?"
No one knew, or seemed to care.