short commons all your life. You
need to think things over very carefully, before you accept an offer of
marriage."

Pixie sat listening, her head cocked to one side, with the air of a
bright, intelligent bird. When Bridgie had finished speaking she sighed
and knitted her brows, and stared thoughtfully into the fire. It was
obvious that she was pondering over what had been said, and did not find
herself altogether in agreement with the rules laid down.

"You mean," she said slowly, "that I should have to think altogether of
_myself_ and what would suit _Me_ and make _me_ happy? That's strange,
now; that's very strange! To bring a girl up all her life to believe
it's her duty in every small thing that comes along to put herself last
and her family in front, and then when she's a grown-up woman, and a man
comes along who believes, poor thing! that she could help him and make
him happy, _then_ just at that moment you tell her to be selfish and
think only of herself. ... 'Tis not that way I'll conduct my love
affairs!" cried Pixie O'Shaughnessy. Her eyes met Bridgie's, and
flashed defiance. "When I meet a man who needs me I'll find my own
happiness in helping _him_!"

"Bless you, darling!" said Bridgie softly. "I am quite sure you will.
... It's a very, very serious time for a woman when the question of
marriage comes into her life. You can't treat it _too_ seriously. I
have not thought of it so far in connection with you, but now that I do
I'll pray about it, Pixie! I'll pray for you, that you may be guided to
a right choice. You'll pray that for yourself, won't you, dear?"

"I will," said Pixie quietly. "I do. And for him--the man I may marry.
I've prayed for him quite a long time."

"The ... the _man_!" Bridgie was so surprised as to appear almost
shocked. "My dear, you don't know him!"

"But he is alive, isn't he? He must be, if I'm going to marry him.
Alive, and grown-up, and living, perhaps, not so far away. Perhaps he's
an orphan, Bridgie; or if he has a home, perhaps he's had to leave it
and live in a strange town. ... Perhaps he's in lodgings, going home
every night to sit alone in a room. Perhaps he's trying to be good, and
finding it very hard. Perhaps there's no one in all the world to pray
for him but just me. _Bridgie_! If I'm going to love him how can I
_not_ pray?"

Mrs Victor rose hurriedly from her seat, and busied herself with the
arrangement of the curtains. They were he