s rather immature."

"I suspect Lizzie has talked to him, reasoned with him," said Mr.
Wentworth.

"On the impropriety of getting tipsy--on the beauty of temperance? That
is dreary work for a pretty young girl. No," Felix continued; "Clifford
ought to frequent some agreeable woman, who, without ever mentioning
such unsavory subjects, would give him a sense of its being very
ridiculous to be fuddled. If he could fall in love with her a little, so
much the better. The thing would operate as a cure."

"Well, now, what lady should you suggest?" asked Mr. Wentworth.

"There is a clever woman under your hand. My sister."

"Your sister--under my hand?" Mr. Wentworth repeated.

"Say a word to Clifford. Tell him to be bold. He is well disposed
already; he has invited her two or three times to drive. But I don't
think he comes to see her. Give him a hint to come--to come often. He
will sit there of an afternoon, and they will talk. It will do him good."

Mr. Wentworth meditated. "You think she will exercise a helpful
influence?"

"She will exercise a civilizing--I may call it a sobering--influence. A
charming, clever, witty woman always does--especially if she is a little
of a coquette. My dear uncle, the society of such women has been half
my education. If Clifford is suspended, as you say, from college, let
Eugenia be his preceptress."

Mr. Wentworth continued thoughtful. "You think Eugenia is a coquette?"
he asked.

"What pretty woman is not?" Felix demanded in turn. But this, for Mr.
Wentworth, could at the best have been no answer, for he did not think
his niece pretty. "With Clifford," the young man pursued, "Eugenia will
simply be enough of a coquette to be a little ironical. That 's what
he needs. So you recommend him to be nice with her, you know. The
suggestion will come best from you."

"Do I understand," asked the old man, "that I am to suggest to my son to
make a--a profession of--of affection to Madame Munster?"

"Yes, yes--a profession!" cried Felix sympathetically.

"But, as I understand it, Madame Munster is a married woman."

"Ah," said Felix, smiling, "of course she can't marry him. But she will
do what she can."

Mr. Wentworth sat for some time with his eyes on the floor; at last he
got up. "I don't think," he said, "that I can undertake to recommend my
son any such course." And without meeting Felix's surprised glance he
broke off his sitting, which was not resumed for a fortnight.

Felix