an
paradise. To float along with Carmen, going deeper and deeper into the
shifting gayety which made the days fly without thought and with no care
for tomorrow, began to seem an admirable way of passing life. What could
one do fitter, after all, for a world hopelessly full of suffering
and poverty and discontent, than to set an example of cheerfulness
and enjoyment, and to contribute, as occasion offered, to the less
fortunate? Would it help matters to be personally anxious and miserable?
To put a large bill in the plate on Sunday, to open her purse wide
for the objects of charity and relief daily presented, was indeed a
privilege and a pleasure, and a satisfaction to the conscience which
occasionally tripped her in her rapid pace.

"I don't believe you have a bit of conscience," said Margaret to Carmen
one Sunday, as they walked home from morning service, when Margaret had
responded "extravagantly," as Carmen said, to an appeal for the mission
among the city pagans.

"I never said I had, dear. It must be the most troublesome thing you
can carry around with you. Of course I am interested in the heathen, but
charity--that is where I agree with Uncle Jerry--begins at home, and I
don't happen to know a greater heathen than I am."

"If you were as bad as you make yourself out, I wouldn't walk with you
another step."

"Well, you ask mother. She was in such a rage one day when I told Mr.
Lyon that he'd better look after Ireland than go pottering round among
the neglected children. Not that I care anything about the Irish," added
this candid person.

"I suppose you wanted to make it pleasant for Mr. Lyon?"

"No; for mother. She can't get over the idea that she is still bringing
me up. And Mr. Lyon! Goodness! there was no living with him after his
visit to Brandon. Do you know, Margaret, that I think you are just a
little bit sly?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Margaret, looking offended.

"Dear, I don't blame you," said the impulsive creature, wheeling short
round and coming close to Margaret. "I'd kiss you this minute if we were
not in the public road."

When Henderson came, Margaret's world was full; no desire was
ungratified. He experienced a little relief when she did not bother him
about his business nor inquire into his operations with Hollowell, and
he fancied that she was getting to accept the world as Carmen accepted
it. There had been moments since his marriage when he feared that
Margaret's scruple