yler's
chocolates, so's some day in the near future he can come marchin' along
it, an' walk straight up to the captain's office an' hand in his
applercation for the vacancy. Now, the question is as plain as the nose
on your face. Do you want him to do it first or do you want him to do it
last? It's up to you to decide the time, but you can betcher life it's
goin' to be some time, Cora or no Cora, _ohne oder mit_ as our Dutch
friend acrost the hall says."

Claire's reflection in the mirror she sat facing, showed a pair of sadly
troubled eyes.

"O, it's very puzzling, Martha," she said. "Somehow, life seems all
topsy-turvy to me lately. So many things going wrong, so few right."

"Now what, if I may make so bold, is wrong with your gettin' a
first-class offer from a well-off, good-lookin' gen'l'man-friend, that's
been keepin' comp'ny with you, off an' on, as you might say, ever since
you was a child, which shows that his heart's in the right place an' his
intentions is honorable. You know, you mustn't let the percession get by
you. Life's like standin' on the curbstone watching the parade--at
least, that's how it seems to young folks. They hear the music an' they
see the banners an' the floats an' they think it's goin' to be a
continuous performance. After a while they've got so used to the band
a-playin' an' the flags a-wavin' that it gets to be an old story, an'
they think that's what it'll be right along, so they don't trouble to
keep their eye peeled for the fella with the water-can, which he asked
'em to watch out for him. No, they argue he's good enough in his way,
but--'_Think_ o' the fella with the drum!' Or even, it might be, who
knows?--the grand one with his mother's big black muff on his head,
doin' stunts with his grandfather's gold-topped club, his grandpa havin'
been a p'liceman with a pull in the ward. An' while they stand a-waitin'
for all the grandjer they're expectin', suddenly it all goes past, an'
they don't see nothin' but p'raps a milk-wagon bringin' up the rear, an'
the ashfalt all strewed with rag-tag-an'-bobtail, an' there's nothin'
doin' in their direction, except turn around an' go home. Now, what's
the matter with Mr. Van Brandt? If you marry him you'll be all to the
good. No worry about the rent, no pinchin' here an' plottin' there to
keep the bills down. No goin' out by the day, rain or shine, traipsin'
the street on your two feet when you're so dead tired you could lay down
an' let the r