However, to the eyes of his mother and his aunt, who
occupied wicker chairs at a little distance, he was almost
indistinguishable except for the stiff white shield of his evening
frontage.
"It's so nice of you always to dress in the evening, Georgie," his
mother said, her glance resting upon this surface. "Your Uncle George
always used to, and so did father, for years; but they both stopped
quite a long time ago. Unless there's some special occasion, it seems
to me we don't see it done any more, except on the stage and in the
magazines."
He made no response, and Isabel, after waiting a little while, as if
she expected one, appeared to acquiesce in his mood for silence, and
turned her head to gaze thoughtfully out at the street.
There, in the highway, the evening life of the Midland city had begun.
A rising moon was bright upon the tops of the shade trees, where their
branches met overhead, arching across the street, but only filtered
splashings of moonlight reached the block pavement below; and through
this darkness flashed the firefly lights of silent bicycles gliding by
in pairs and trios--or sometimes a dozen at a time might come, and not
so silent, striking their little bells; the riders' voices calling and
laughing; while now and then a pair of invisible experts would pass,
playing mandolin and guitar as if handle-bars were of no account in
the world--their music would come swiftly, and then too swiftly die
away.
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