ner as brusque as his own.

"On what?"

"The inducements and natural opportunities. I'm not going to recite a
lesson like a schoolgirl."

"One would think you had been to school."

"I have, where much is taught and learned thoroughly."

"Now, that is enigmatical again."

"The best of the books you sent me left some room for the
imagination."

"Ha, ha, ha, Madge! you are scoring points right along. I told you,
Graydon, that you couldn't understand her in a moment or in a week."

"I never regarded your imagination as rampant, Henry. Have you
fathomed all her mystery?"

"Far from it; nor do I expect to, and yet you will grant to me some
degree of penetration."

"Well, to think that I should have come home to find a sphinx instead
of little Madge!"

"Thank you. A sphinx is usually portrayed with at least the head of a
woman."

"In this case she has one that would inspire a Greek sculptor. Perhaps
in time I may discover a heart also."

"That's doubtful."

"Indeed."

"Yes, indeed."

"What far-fetched nonsense!" said Mrs. Muir, sententiously. "Madge has
come back one of the best and most sensible girls in the world. Men
and poets are always imagining that women are mysteries. The fact is,
they are as transparent as glass when they know their own minds; when
they don't, who else should know them?"

"Who indeed?" said Graydon, laughing. "Your saving clause, Mary, is as
boundless as space."

"How absurd! I understand Madge perfectly, and so does Henry."

"You said last evening that the change in her was a miracle. Once in
the realm of the supernatural, what may not one expect?"

"You knew what I meant. I referred to Madge's health and appearance
and accomplishments and all that. She has not changed in heart and
feeling any more than I have, and I'm sure I'm not a sphinx."

"No, Mary; you are a sensible and excellent wife and my very dear
sister. You suggest no mystery. Madge certainly does, for you have,
in addition to all the rest, announced an indefinite list of
accomplishments."

"If I remain the subject of conversation I shall complain that your
remarks are personal," said Madge, her brows contracting with a little
vexation.

"That is what makes our talk so interesting. Personals are always read
first. In drawing Mary and Henry out, I am getting acquainted with
you."

"It's not a good way. You like it merely because it teases me and
saves trouble. If you must gossip and surmise about me, wai