much women’s dresses as their thoughts.  She had never been a reader, and perhaps for that reason her mind had all the more run into regions of fancy and imagination.  She caught half an idea in the air, and tossed it for amusement.  In these days of unrest she tossed her ideas more rapidly than ever.  Most women are more or less mystical by nature, and Esther had a vein of mysticism running through a practical mind.

The only person outside her family whom she saw was Hazard.  He was either at the house or in some way near her almost every day.  He took charge of the funeral services, and came to make inquiries, to bring messages, or to suggest an occupation, until he was looked upon as one of the household.  Once or twice, the week after the funeral, he came in the evening, and asked for a cup of tea.  Then Catherine sat by and dozed while Esther talked mysticism with Hazard, who was himself a mystic of the purest water.  By this time Esther had learned to look on the physical life, the daily repetition of breakfast and dinner, as the unreal part of existence, and apologized to herself for conceding so much to habit, or put it down to Catherine’s account.  Her illusions were not serious; perhaps she had for this short instant a flash of truth, and by the light of her father’s deathbed, saw life as it is; but, while the mood lasted, nothing seemed real except the imagination, and nothing true but the spiritual.  In this atmosphere Hazard was always happy, for he reveled in the voluptuousness of poetry, and found peace in the soul of a dandelion; but to share his subtlest fancies with a woman who could understand and feel them, was to reach a height of poetry that trembled on the verge of realizing heaven.  His great eyes shone with the radiance of paradise, and his delicate thin features expressed beatitude, as he discussed with Esther the purity of the soul, the victory of spirit over matter, and the peace of infinite love.

Of her regular occupations Esther kept up only such as were duties, but among them she was true to her little hospital, and went once or twice a week to see the children who clamored for her visits.  She went alone, for she liked solitude, and was glad to give Catherine an excuse for escaping to gayer houses and seeing brighter society.  About a fortnight after her father’s death, one Saturday afternoon when she felt more solitary than ever, and more restless because her long quiet had begun to bring back her strength, she went to the hospital where the children welcomed her with delight.  She took her old seat and looked through the yellow eyes of the fire-dogs for inspiration; opened a package and distributed small presents, little Japanese umbrellas, fans, doll’s shoes and such small change of popularity; and, at last, obeying the cries for more story, she went on with the history of Princess Lovely in her Cocoanut Island, besieged by whales and defended by talking elephants and monkeys.  She had hardly begun when the door opened and again Mr. Hazard entered.  This time Esther blushed.