She finished with one of Burns’s lyrics; and then told Arthur that it was now his turn, and that she would play for him. He shook his head, pleading that he was out of practice. “They talk about the editor’s opinions,” struck in a fiery little woman who was busy flinging crumbs out of the window to a crowd of noisy sparrows. “It’s the Advertiser edits half the papers. Write anything that three of them object to, and your proprietor tells you to change your convictions or go. Most of us change.” She jerked down the window with a slam.!

“Very beautiful,” he answered, “in the beginning.” She met Carleton by chance a day or two later, as she was entering the office. “I want to see you,” he said; and took her up with him into his room.

She forced a laugh. “Why shouldn’t it come true?” she asked. “Whether we accept the miraculous explanation of Christ’s birth,” continued Mr. Simson, in his best street-corner voice, “or whether, with the great French writer whose name for the moment escapes me, we regard Him merely as a man inspired, we must, I think, admit that His teaching has been of help: especially to the poor.” “Does she know about Richmond Park—and the other places?” asked Flossie.