teaching. Pretty good, isn't she?"

"Pretty good! She is a genius--a wonder. This is all rot about my not
meeting her. I am going to meet her and train her. I suppose you have
noticed that she is a beauty too."

"But she's only a child," Burgess urged. "She's only eighteen. She
couldn't stand the life and the work and she couldn't stand the people.
You have no idea what high ideals these girls have, and Mary
Conners--that's the girl's name--seems to be exceptional even amongst
them."

"Too good for us, eh?" asked the actor.

"Entirely too good," answered Burgess steadily.

"And do you feel justified in deciding her future for her! In condemning
her to an obscure life in the slums instead of a successful career on
the stage?"

"I do not," answered Burgess, "she must decide that for herself. I'll
ask her and let you know."

To this end he sought Miss Masters. "I want you," said he, "to ask Mary
Conners to tea with you to-morrow afternoon. It will be Sunday so she
can manage. And then I want you to leave us alone. I have something very
serious to say to her."

Margaret looked at him and laughed. "Then you were right," said she,
"and I was wrong; I had found a wife for you."

"For absolute inane, insensate romanticism," said he, "I recommend you
to the recently engaged. You used to have some sense. You were clever
enough to refuse me and now you go and forever ruin my opinion of you by
making a remark like that."

"It is not romanticism at all," she maintained. "It is the best of
common sense. You will never be satisfied with anyone you haven't
trained and formed to suit your own ideals. And you will never find such
a 'quick study' as Mary."

It was the earliest peep of spring and Burgess stopped on his way to
Miss Masters' house and bought a sheaf of white hyacinths and pale
maiden hair for the little Lady Hyacinth who was waiting for him.

As soon as he was alone with her he managed to distract her attention
from her flowers and to make her listen to Marsden's message. He set the
case before her plainly. Without exaggeration and without extenuation.

"And we don't expect you," he ended, "to make up your mind at once. You
must consult your relatives and friends."

"I have no relatives," she answered.

"Your friends then."

"I don't think I have many. Some of the girls in the club perhaps. The
old book-keeper in the store where I work, perhaps Miss Masters."

"And you have me," he interrupted. But she