uld be married at once.

"She's at loose ends, and he's at loose ends. The sooner they get tied
up, the better," was the way she put it.

"But hold on!" cried Quin, sitting up in bed. "I can't do that, you know;
I've got to get on my feet first."

"How are you going to get on your feet until you get your strength back?"
demanded Madam. "You look like going to work, don't you?"

"Well, the doctor has promised me I can go out on Saturday. I ought to be
able to go to work in a couple of weeks."

"Couple of fiddle-sticks! Dr. Rawlins told me it would be two months
before you would be fit for work, and even then you would have to be
careful."

"Well, you don't think I am going to let Miss Nell in on a deal like
that, do you?" Quin's voice broke and he gripped Eleanor's hand until she
winced.

"But, Quin, I want it to be now," Eleanor begged. "Grandmother and I have
gone over it from every standpoint, and she's come to see it as I do. You
need me, and I need you. Why can't you be sensible and see it as we do?"

How Quin ever withstood those pleading tones and beseeching eyes, it is
impossible to say. But withstand them he did, announcing stubbornly that
it was bad enough for a girl to marry a chap with broken bellows; but for
her to marry one she would not only have to nurse, but support as well,
was not to be thought of. There was but one thing to do, and that was to
wait.

Then it was that Madam, who had been reasonably patient up till now, lost
her temper and delivered an ultimatum.

"You'll marry her now or not at all," she thundered. "I am sick and tired
of the way you try to run this family, Quinby Graham! For more than a
year now you have carried things with a high hand. You got Ranny out of
the factory and on a farm. You married Enid to Francis Chester, and sent
them to California. You made me let Eleanor go to New York, and came very
near landing her on the stage for good. And now, when I have been
persuaded into letting the child marry you, you are not satisfied, but
insist on doing it at your own time and in your own way!"

"You forgot one thing, granny," suggested Eleanor demurely. "He made you
have the operation."

Madam was not to be diverted. She glared at Quin like an angry old
lioness.

"Are you going to do as I advise?" she demanded.

"No; not until I get a job." Quin's jaw was set as firmly as hers, and
their eyes measured each other's with equal determination.

"Well, then I'll give you