"The play is my life--next to you," Sam Wright's Sam was saying to
his father's tenant. He had left The Top before the two visitors
arrived, and as Dr. Lavendar had foreseen, had gone straight to the
Stuffed Animal House....

Helena was in a low chair, with David nestling sleepily in her arms;
Sam, looking up at her like a young St. John, half sat, half knelt, on
the step at her feet. The day had been hot, and evening had brought no
coolness; under the sentinel locusts on either side of the porch steps
the night was velvet black; but out over the garden there were stars.
A faint stirring of the air tilted the open bowls of the evening-
primroses, spilling a heavy sweetness into the shadows. The house
behind them was dark, for it was too hot for lamps. It was very still
and peaceful and commonplace--a woman, a dozing child, and the soft
night. Young Sam, so sensitive to moods, had fallen at once into the
peace and was content to sit silently at Helena's feet.... Then David
broke in upon the tranquillity by remarking, with a sigh, that he must
go to bed.

"I heard the clock strike," he said sadly.

"I think you are a very good little boy," Helena declared with
admiration.

"Dr. Lavendar said I must," David explained crossly. "You're
misbehavious if you don't do what Dr. Lavendar says. Mrs. Richie, is
heaven up in the sky?"