hing in a high school! Oh, Esther, Esther, well might I call you
consistent! After this I shall have no more faith in strong-minded
women."

"Don't call her strong-minded! I won't have it; it sounds too unlovable
for my dear, good girl!" cried Esther's mother fondly, and then
immediately contradicting herself; "And indeed she would need to be
strong-minded," she declared, "to venture to many a literary man.
Tiresome creatures! that they are, always living in the clouds and
coming in late for meals. An aunt of my own married an author, who
ruined his health poring over his desk from morning to night, and half-
way through the night into the bargain. Her great object in life was to
tempt him out of doors, and at first she could never do it; but she was
a woman of resource, and got the better of him in the end. She said she
had nothing to do but to ring the dinner-bell, and out he would fly and
scour the country-side for hours on end! So, indeed, she rang it
regularly half-way through the afternoon, and the poor soul was too lost
in dreams to discover the deception. He just thought he had been out
for ten minutes' constitutional, and that the meal had been kept hot
until his return. I've known several literary couples in my time, but
they were the only really happy pair, for not one woman in fifty has the
wit to manage a man without letting him suspect it. Remember, Esther,
when the professor is aggravating--"

"He never will be! Mother, how _can_ you?" protested the _fiancee_
indignantly, at which Mrs Asplin beamed with delight, Mellicent
chuckled, and Peggy groaned in sepulchral fashion.

"Just wait and see. He'll wear you to a skeleton, my dear, and you
never had too much flesh to boast of. I've heard tales about literary
men which would make your flesh creep. Being late for meals is
nothing--literally nothing! I'm told they never speak for months at a
time when they are in the throes of composition, and habitually sit up
at night writing until they fall asleep, knock over the lamp, and set
the house on fire. You had better keep fire-escapes on every landing,
for you are bound to need them."

It was of no use. Esther refused to be alarmed or even depressed. She
sat smiling and complacent, her hands folded on her knee, her usually
serious face softened into a radiance of contented happiness. Her state
of illusion was such that, if any one had dared to hint that the
professor might possibly mingle s