and, on the other hand,
there were sacred duties--duties to their God. What priest or Levite,
with proper religious instincts, could possibly hesitate?

Was the Miriam who chafed at her disappointment, and invented
casuistical arguments to excuse herself, the same Miriam who walked
over to see Mortimer, Wake, and Collins on behalf of Mr. Cutts?
Precisely the same.

The doctor kept his engagement, and in an hour returned with a nurse.
When Miriam saw she was relieved, she became compassionate.

"I am so grieved," she said to the doctor, "to see Miss Tippit so ill.
Is there really _nothing_ I can do for her?"

"Nothing, madam."

Miriam, so grieved, rushed downstairs wild with excitement and delight,
laid hold of Andrew, half asleep, twitched him merrily out of the
chair, and they were off. In a few minutes they were at the hall, and
found that they were in ample time to hear Mr. Montgomery's first song.

He had taken particular care not to include anything offensive or even
broad, so that one of his audience who eat below Miriam and Andrew
exclaimed in their hearing that it was "a d----d pious night," and
wondered "what Mont's little game was."

One of Mr. Montgomery's most telling serious songs was sung in the
costume of a sailor. There was a description of his wanderings over
the "salt, salt sea," which rhymed with something "free," as it always
does, and there was a slightly veiled account of his exploits amongst
the damsels of different countries, always harmless, so at least ran
the version for the night, and yet he swore when he returned that

"My lovely Poll at Portsmouth,
When in my arms I caught her,
Was worth a hundred foreign gals
On the t'other side the water"--

a sentiment which was tumultuously applauded, although few of the men
present had travelled, and those who were married were probably not so
rapturously in love with their own domestic Polls.

Andrew was not quite comfortable, but Miriam applauded with the rest.

"How cleverly," she said, "he manages, although he is a gentleman, born
and bred, to adapt himself to the people beneath him. It is a pity,
though, that he hasn't a better sphere for his talents."

When they came out, Mr. Montgomery accompanied them home; and as it was
night, and the streets were crowded with rather rough and disorderly
persons, he offered Miriam his arm, Andrew walking on the other side of
her.

"I was half ashamed, Miss Tacchi, that you sho