tility,
although the person reproving and the person reproved may be
unconscious of it, is never persuasive; and as a tendency to whisky and
water requires a very powerful antidote, it is not surprising that
Andrew grew rather worse than better.

One evening Montgomery called. He had come to ask them both to the
hall. He was in a very quiet, rational humour, for he had not as yet
had his threepennyworth. Andrew had been out all day, had come home
none the better for his excursion, and had gone to bed.

"Your brother not at home?"

"Yes; but he is not very well, and is upstairs."

"I've brought you a couple of tickets for next week. I hope you will
be able to go; that is to say, if you were not disgusted when you were
last there."

"Disgusted! I am afraid, Mr. Montgomery, you have a very poor opinion
of my 'gusts' and disgusts."

It was unfortunate for Miriam that she had no work before her, such as
sewing or knitting. She abominated it; but in conversation, especially
between a man and a woman who find themselves alone, it is useful. It
not only relieves awkwardness, but it prevents too much edge and
directness during the interview.

"Well, you might reasonably have been offended with both the songs and
the company."

"Neither. As to the company, I did not see much of it, thanks to your
kindness in getting us such a good place; and as to the songs, to say
nothing of the way in which they were sung, there was a
straight-forwardness about them that I liked.

"I don't quite know what you mean."

"Well," said Miriam, with a little laugh, which was not exactly the
light effervescence of gaiety, "your people, if they love one another,
say so outright, without any roundaboutness."

Mr. Montgomery was puzzled. He did not quite know what to make out of
this girl. There was something in her way of speaking and in her
frankness which offered itself to him, and yet again there was
something which stopped him from attempting any liberties. She did not
classify herself in any of the species with which he was familiar.

At last he said--"You object, then, to all roundaboutness in such
matters."

"Well, yes; but perhaps I might be misunderstood. I should like people
to be plain both ways, about their dislikes as well as their likes."

"Good gracious me, Miss Tacchi, what a pretty world you would live in.
There would be no fun in it. Half the amusement of life consists in
trying to find out what we really