rvedly popular
there. Soon, I have no doubt, you will aspire to more important parts.
Still, my dear child," the professor continued, disposing of his second
cocktail, "I see no reason why your very laudable desire to remain
independent should be incompatible with a life under your sister's roof
and my protection. Mr. Tavernake here, with his British instincts, will,
I am sure, agree with me that it is not well for a young lady--my own
daughter, sir, but I may say it--of considerable personal attractions,
to live alone or under the chaperonage merely of these other young
ladies of the theatre."

"I think,", Tavernake said, "that your daughter must have very strong
reasons for preferring to live alone."

"Imaginary ones, my dear sir," the professor assured him,--"altogether
imaginary. The quails at last! And the Clicquot! Now this is really a
delightful little meeting. I drink to its repetition. This is indeed a
treat for me. Beatrice, my love to you! Mr. Tavernake, my best respects!
The only vintage, sir," he concluded, setting down his empty glass
appreciatively.

"To go back to what you were saying just now," Tavernake remarked, "I
quite agree with you about Beatrice's living alone. I am very anxious
for her to marry me."

The professor set down his knife and fork. His appearance was one of
ponderous theatricality.

"Sir," he declared, "this is indeed a most momentous statement. Am I to
take it as a serious offer for my daughter's hand?"

Beatrice leaned over and laid her fingers upon his.

"Father," she said, "it doesn't matter please. I am not willing to marry
Mr. Tavernake."

The professor looked from one to the other and coughed.

"Are Mr. Tavernake's means," he asked, "of sufficient importance to
warrant his entering into matrimony?"

"I have no money at all to speak of," Tavernake answered. "That really
isn't important. I shall very soon make all that your daughter can
spend."

"I agree with my daughter, sir," the professor declared. "The subject
might well be left until such time as you have improved your position.
We will dismiss it, therefore,--dismiss it at once. We will talk--"

"Father," Beatrice interrupted, "let us talk about yourself. Don't
you think you would be more contented, happier, if you were to try to
arrange for a few--a few demonstrations or lectures over here, as you
at first intended? I know that you must find having nothing to do such a
strain upon you," she added.

It was