THE AMERICAN
found Babcock waiting for him in the little garden beside it. The young man walked up to him, looking very dismal, thrust out his hand and said with solemnity that he was afraid they must part. Newman expressed his surprise and regret; he wondered why a parting had become necessary. "Don't be afraid I'm tired of you," he said.
"You're not tired of me?" his companion asked, fixing him with clear but almost tragic eyes.
"Why the deuce should I be? You're a very nice man. Besides, I don't break down so easily."
"We don't understand each other," said poor Dorchester.
"Don't I understand you?" cried Newman. "Why, I hoped I did. But what if I don't; where's the harm?"
"I don't understand you" said Babcock. And he sat down and rested his head on his hand and looked up mournfully at his immeasurable friend.
"But why should you mind that if I don't?"
"It's very distressing to me. It keeps me in a state of unrest. It irritates me; I can't settle anything. I don't think it's good for me."
"You worry too much; that's what's the matter with you," said Newman.
"Of course it must seem so to you. You think I take all questions too hard, and I think you take them too superficially. We can never agree."
"But we've agreed very well all along."
"No, I have n't agreed," said Babcock, shaking his head. "I'm very uncomfortable. I ought to have separated from you a month ago."
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