deals. But he had rendered
their willingness hopeless by marrying, rather late in life, a young girl
from the farther West who had come East with a general purpose to get on.
She got on very well with Milray, and it was perhaps not altogether her
own fault that she did not get on so well with his family, when she began
to substitute a society aim for the artistic ambition that had brought
her to New York. They might have forgiven him for marrying her, but they
could not forgive her for marrying him. They were of New England origin
and they were perhaps a little more critical with her than if they had
been New Yorkers of Dutch strain. They said that she was a little Western
hoyden, but that the stage would have been a good place for her if she
could have got over her Pike county accent; in the hush of family
councils they confided to one another the belief that there were phases
of the variety business in which her accent would have been no barrier to
her success, since it could not have been heard in the dance, and might
have been disguised in the song.

"Will you kindly read that passage over again?" Milray asked as
Clementina paused at the end of a certain paragraph. She read it, while
he listened attentively. "Could you tell me just what you understand by
that?" he pursued, as if he really expected Clementina to instruct him.

She hesitated a moment before she answered, "I don't believe I undastand
anything at all."

"Do you know," said Milray, "that's exactly my own case? And I've an idea
that the author is in the same box," and Clementina perceived she might
laugh, and laughed discreetly.

Milray seemed to feel the note of discreetness in her laugh, and he
asked, smiling, "How old did you tell me you were?"

"I'm sixteen," said Clementina.

"It's a great age," said Milray. "I remember being sixteen myself; I have
never been so old since. But I was very old for my age, then. Do you
think you are?"

"I don't believe I am," said Clementina, laughing again, but still very
discreetly.

"Then I should like to tell you that you have a very agreeable voice. Do
you sing?"

"No'm--no, sir--no," said Clementina, "I can't sing at all."

"Ah, that's very interesting," said Milray, "but it's not surprising. I
wish I could see your face distinctly; I've a great curiosity about
matching voices and faces; I must get Mrs. Milray to tell me how you
look. Where did you pick up your pretty knack at reading? In school,
here