like her mother in that respect, but he
had remembered suddenly that he was speaking to his second wife.

However, Ida finished his remark for him with perfect good-nature.
She had not the slightest jealousy of Harry's first wife, only a sort
of contempt, that she had gotten so little where she herself had
gotten so much.

"Maria's own mother was very particular, wasn't she, dear?" she said.

"Very," replied Harry.

"Maria takes it from her, without any doubt," Ida said, smoothly.
"She looked so sweet in that new gown to-day, that I would like to
have the Adamses see her without her coat to-night; and Maria looks
even prettier without her hat, too, her hair grows so prettily on her
temples. Maria grows lovelier every day, it seems to me. I don't know
how many I saw looking at her in church this morning."

"Yes, she is going to be pretty, I guess," said Harry, and again his
very soul seemed warm and light with pleasure and gratitude.

"She _is_ pretty," said Ida, conclusively. "She is at the awkward
age, too. But there is no awkwardness about Maria. She is like a
little fairy."

Harry beamed upon her. "She is as proud as punch when she gets a
chance to take the little one out, and they made a pretty picture
going down the street," said he, "but I hope she won't catch cold. Is
that new suit warm?"

"Oh yes! it is interlined. I looked out for that."

"You look out for my child as if she were your own, bless you, dear,"
Harry said, affectionately.

Then Ida thought that the time for her carefully-led-up-to coup had
arrived. "I try to," said she, meekly.

"You _do_."

Ida began to speak, then she hesitated, with timid eyes on her
husband's face.

"What is it, dear?" asked he.

"Well, I have been thinking a good deal lately about Maria and her
associates in school here."

"Why, what is the matter with them?" Harry asked, uneasily.

"Oh, I don't know that there is anything very serious the matter with
them, but Maria is at an age when she is very impressible, and there
are many who are not exactly desirable. There is Gladys Mann, for
instance. I saw Maria walking down the street with her the other day.
Now, Harry, you know that Gladys Mann is not exactly the kind of girl
whom Maria's own mother would have chosen for an intimate friend for
her."

"You are right," Harry said, frowning.

"Well, I have been thinking over the number of pupils of both sexes
in the school who can be called degenerates, eithe