To himself he accented the last three words, so that they overshadowed all the rest and made her appear to remind him where he stood--at the bottom.
"I suppose a hollow does look pretty high, to a man down a well," he retorted, glancing into his teacup because he felt and was resisting an impulse to look at her.
"One can always keep climbing," she murmured, "and never give up--" Miss Josephine, also, was tilting her teacup and looking studiously into it as if she would read her fortune in the specks of tea leaves there.
"Like the frog in the well--that climbed one jump and fell back two!" he interrupted, but she paid no attention, and went on.
"And the reward for reaching the top--" "Is there supposed to be a reward ?" Ford could not tell why he asked her that, nor why he glanced stealthily at her from under his eyebrows as he awaited her reply.
"There--might--there usually is a reward for any great achievement--and--" Miss Josephine was plainly floundering where she had hoped to float airily upon the surface.
"What's the reward for--climbing hills, for instance ?" He looked at her full, now, and his lips were ready to smile.
Miss Josephine looked uneasily at the door.

"I--really, I never--investigated the matter at all." She gave a twitch of shoulders and met his eyes steadily.

"The inner satisfaction of having climbed the hill, I suppose," she said, in the tone of one who has at last reached firm ground.

"Will you have more tea, Mr.Campbell ?" Her final words were chilly and impersonal, but Ford left the table, smiling to himself.

At the door he met Dick, whom Buddy had mentioned with disaster to himself.