rassment that the old man seemed so complacently free from.
"Philosopher!" said the other, rising. "Why, my dear boy, I could found a school of philosophy—only where would the pupils come from? No, no; philosophy would n't pay in California; too much blue sky and sunshine here. Well, when are we going to see you again? Soon—don't forget that. Viola and I have n't many friends—just an odd one, like yourself, here and there. Viola does n't go much on society, and so we let the old crowd drop; and we 're not sorry, not sorry—too many tares in the wheat. What old Solomon said about a dinner of herbs and good company being better than a stalled ox in a wide house with a brawling woman—was n't that it?—was right. He was a great old chap, Solomon! Brains and experience—that 's a combination that 's hard to beat."
They moved toward the door together, and here the colonel turned on his friend for a last good-by.
"Well, so long," he said, extending his hand and smiling on the younger man with a bland benignity of aspect that had in it something paternally patronizing. "Don't forget that we expect you soon. We 're always at home in the evenings, and always glad to see our friends—our real friends."
