minute that a revolution of some kind was going on, but wisely asked no questions, knowing that Meg was such a transparent little person, she couldn't keep a secret to save her life, and therefore the clue would soon appear. He read a long debate with the most amiable readiness, and then explained it in his most lucid manner, while Meg tried to look deeply interested, to ask intelligent questions, and keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the nation to the state of her bonnet. In her secret soul, however, she decided that politics were as bad as mathematics, and that the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names; but she kept these feminine ideas to herself, and when John paused, shook her head, and said with what she thought diplomatic ambiguity,—
"Well, I really don't see what we are coming too."
John laughed, and watched her for a minute, as she poised a pretty little preparation of tulle and flowers on her hand, and regarded it with the genuine interest which his harangue had failed to waken.
"She is trying to like politics for my sake, so I'll try and like millinery for hers—that's only fair," thought John the just, adding aloud,—
"That's very pretty; is it what you call a breakfast cap?"
"My dear man, it's a bonnet—my very best go-to-concert and theatre bonnet!"
"I beg your pardon; it was so very small, I naturally mistook it for one of the fly-away things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?"
"These bits of lace are fastened under the chin, with a rose-bud, so"—and Meg illustrated by putting