Lots of the Great Works, that spread misery over whole communities, wouldn't come off, if a sense of a joke was left in the conspirators. Mary was keen for a laugh, and saw the funny side of things as quick as any man, yet those poor little devils all out of place and condition didn't raise a smile on her face. It did on mine, though. I thought of 'em, happy in their fleas, sun, and dirt, and then looked at the early-Christian-martyr expression on their faces and choked, but that laugh rode on sorrow and anger at that. It was a downright wickedness to the children. I looked at Mary, knowing her for a kind woman--one who loved all innocent play. I hit myself on the head at the dumb-foolishness of it. How in the devil's name could she bring herself to approve of this? Why is it we lay a course for somebody else we'd never think of following ourselves? Well, I sat there and echo continued to answer "Why?" as usual, till the silence thickened. She broke it with a lucky proposition. "You seem very serious this morning, Will," she said. I told her that was so; looking at the poor little revolutionists in their white shirts of suffering, I made up my mind to let her have it. "I wonder," I said, "if it's asking too much of you to listen to me for awhile. I had a miserable time of it, as a boy, and now and then it sits on me so hard I like to speak to a friend for comfort." It was the surest way to claim her time. She caught my hand. "Certainly," she said. "If you only knew, Will, how anxious I am to be of some real service in this world, instead of being told that I'm--" "Let it go!" I put in. "That you're good to look at, and so forth?" She nodded. "I don't mean that I'm so lofty-minded that I don't like it sometimes, yet I mustn't grow to like it and--" "For my part I'm glad there's some beauty in this little old world," said I. "I love to trig myself out as you see--give the folks a treat. Honest, I can't see the harm in brightening up the landscape all you're able. But, though I ain't much of a professional beauty, I can understand that too much sugar leads to seasickness." "You're as handsome a young man as a young man should be!" says Mary, indignant. "Don't attempt a foolish modesty. I wish I were strong, and six-foot-three, and a man!" "Throw in the red hair?" "You have beautiful hair! I believe you know it, you vain boy, and let it grow purposely. And now you're just leading me to sound your praises!" I laughed. "I'd stick at nothing, for that," I answered. "Oh, why ain't I ten years older! I'd have you out of here in a minute!" "I believe you would," she said; "I don't believe you'd care for my protests nor prayers nor tears. You'd just selfishly pick me right up and walk away with me and bully me for the rest of my days!" "Just that--Heavens! But I'd make it awful for you! Captain Jesse would be a lambkin beside me!" We both laughed, thinking of Jesse the Terrible.