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"In the joy with which you and Miss Dallas hailed the appearance of the man whom you thought dead, I was--for the time being--quite forgotten; and very naturally too. Profiting by the occasion, I left the room and went to the bedroom where Mr. Sarby lay in a trance, similar to that into which Mr. Alymer had fallen, both trances being caused by the poison of the devil-stick. As you have learned from his own lips, I revived him, as I revived his friend; so now, my good Jen, you have your two boys with you again, alive and well. The comedy is finished; and was I not right in denying to these past events the misleading name of tragedy? So I hurried and stuffed the grey-blue darling in the top tray, lapped the old black silk around my waist and belted it in with a black belt off a new green linen I had bought for morning walks—down to the butcher's in the High Street, I suppose. That is about the only morning dissipation in Hillsboro that I can think of, and it all depends on whom you meet, how much of a dissipation it is. "Must!" repeated Maurice, with great indignation..

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"Sometimes it hurts." Then a cyclone happened to me. "Patricia's awfully superficial, I think," she confided to him cheerfully, as she watched her readjusting her bright hair beneath the pretty hat rim at the quaint old mirror of the bookcase. "She's so set on pretty things. She just worships anyone who is pretty—no matter whether she understands their character or not. I wish we could make her more serious-minded and careful." "From behind?" "Sounds like you were prescribing for yourself," retorted Judith with a flash of intuition. "You look just as——".