Jo--unsentimental Jo--was entirely carried away. With the music, of
course, for music was art, and art, only in another branch, was his life
and work; and was not Cyn a beautiful work of Nature, the mother of all
art?

"He will be a very lucky man who shall call our Cyn his," whispered Clem
to Jo, as she came out in answer to an encore.

"What!" ejaculated Jo, so savagely that every one turned to look at him,
and Clem opened his eyes wide with surprise. "Bah! Nonsense!"

And some way or other, after this, the music sounded very dismal to Jo,
and the close air of the room made his head ache; but he had been
working very hard all day, and was tired, so this was quite natural.

Was Clem presuming on his good looks, and thinking of making Cyn _his_,
he wondered? If he was, _she_ certainly would not be fool enough to--Jo
stopped here in his meditations, because he would like to have been a
little surer that she would not. Very strongly he felt just then that
"things of a doubtful nature were sometimes very uncertain!"

It was, of course, no sentiment on his part that caused these emotions.
He did not wish Cyn to throw herself away in matrimony, that was all;
and so strong were his feelings on this point that he could not banish
the idea from his mind all the rest of the evening, and was noticeably
thoughtful.

But he was very gay; even unusually, wildly gay on the way home, and
kept Mrs. Simonson, whom he escorted, in such a state of laughter that
she burst three buttons, and was all "wheezed up" when they reached the
hotel.

"Why are you so thoughtful to-night?" Clem asked Nattie, as they walked
down their street behind the rest, in the wake of Jo's gayety and
Celeste's meaningless giggle. Celeste was clinging to the arm of the
unwilling, but helpless Quimby, and chatting of the handsome tenor.

With a slight start, Nattie replied to Clem's question,

"I do not know. Am I?"

"Yes; you have hardly spoken a word all the way. Is anything the
trouble?" asked Clem, and she, looking moodily oh the ground, did not
see the anxiety in his eyes as he spoke.

"Nothing!" she replied; then startled him by bursting out passionately,

"I am tired of living with no object; with nothing but a daily routine.
Can it be there is no better place in the world for me? That my life
must be always thus? I _cannot_ be contented!"

Clem stopped short and stared at her agitated face.

"I never knew you were not happy, Nattie," he said