Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

Rainy Week Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

IN the changes and chances of our New England climate it is not so much what a Guest can endure outdoors as what he can originate indoors that endears him most to a weather-worried Host. Take Rollins, for instance, a small man, dour, insignificant- a prude in the moonlight, a duffer at sailing, a fool at tennis-yet once given a rain-patter and a smoky fireplace, of an audacity so impertinent, so altogether absurd, that even yawns must of necessity turn to laughter-or curses. The historic thunderstorm question, for instance, which he sprang at the old Bishop's house-party after five sweltering days of sunshine and ecclesiastical argument: "Who was the last person you kissed before you were married?"