mother. "Isn't it droll, the way she can't get it out of her head?" Then turning almost coaxingly to the old woman: "Voyons, look about you: they don't marry us like that."
"But they do—cela se voit tons les jours. Ask Mr. Dormer."
"Oh, never!" said Miriam: "it would be as if I asked him to give us a practical illustration."
"I shall never give any illustration of matrimony; for me that question's over," said Nick.
Miriam rested kind eyes on him. "Dear me, how you must hate me!" And before he had time to reply she went on, to her mother: "People marry them to make them leave the stage; which proves exactly what I say."
"Ah, they offer them the finest positions," reasoned Mrs. Rooth.
"Do you want me to leave it then?"
"Oh, you can manage if you will!"
"The only managing I know anything about is to do my work. If I manage that, I shall pull through."
"But, dearest, may our work not be of many sorts?"
"I only know one," said Miriam.
At this Mrs. Rooth got up with a sigh. "I see you do wish to drive me into the street."
"Mamma's bewildered—there are so many paths she wants to follow, there are so many bundles of hay. As I told you, she wishes to gobble them all," Miriam went on. Then she added: "Yes, go and take the carriage; take a turn round the Park—you always delight in that—and come back for me in an hour."
"I'm too vexed with you; the air will do me good," said
