you have spoken of for more than a year? Considering that you are free of the planet, and can please yourself whether you ever do anything more or not, you seem to me to work a good deal."
"Perhaps the 'Freedom' may mean freedom to work. I take it as such, and I am sure that if I sunk into a state of ignoble idleness and self-indulgence you would be the first to condemn me. Look at Grayson, he has the badge, and he works as hard as ever spite his fifty years."
"That is all very well," said Helen, "but you know what all work and no play means. Generally we have plenty of play here, and surely when our modicum of work is finished we may play without feeling that any moral law is thereby infringed. Just look over our day's programme. At the club this afternoon we have a lecture on 'prehistoric history' of the earth. Our friend Phillips is going to people again those Asiatic cities that were full of life when the world was young. Then to-night we have one of Shakespeare's plays, 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.' I will not miss that. At the Equatorial you have an opera, and there are about two hundred other entertainments inside the Urban radius all for to-night. We are fond of amusements and a fair modicum of instruction, and who can say that we are less happy or less virtuous on that account?"
"I am afraid that we push amusement too far, and that we are in danger of making our lives a little too empty. Too much play is as bad as too much work."
"Well you are in no danger anyway; too much, play has not hurt you so far."
"I grant that," said Charles, "and it is really my intention to share in a grand excursion up the Sidon, I invite you and your brother. My father and Emma will go, and perhaps mother."
"Oh, well you know Harry will go wherever there is a chance of Emma's company; as for me I will stay at home and keep mother company. There will be plenty of you for a very nice party." Helen went on with this kind of conversation for some time, showing how well they could enjoy themselves, and picturing herself at home helping mother, and doing up some neglected duties and attending to some studies that had fallen a little behind. She pretended not to see the look of absolute distress that pained the face of her companion.
"I shall be very sorry if you cannot go," said Charles; "your absence will take all the brightness out of the trip. You see we have been companions and friends so long. I have grown quite used to you. It is strange that a similar feeling has not sprung up in you."
"Oh, well, we'll see what mother says; perhaps she will spare me. At any rate you can count upon me for a visit to the Observatory. We will turn back now, if you please, and go to the Club. I want to read the Shakespearian play before seeing the performance to-night."
