“Ah, well,” she shook her head mournfully, “I can see what would happen. If we married, you would make an obstinate husband. You don’t really love me.” Her despair sounded real. “Oh, it’s not that. It’s not that,” he cried, dragging her face towards him with both hands. She took his hands away and held them. “Then, what Is it?” “You’re so beautiful. I can’t--can’t speak. I can’t tell you.” She clasped him closer. “Oh, I’m sorry. It was only my fun. I didn’t mean to make you cry. You’re the second person I’ve hurt to-night. But you--you’re only a little boy, and such a dear little boy! We were going to be such good friends. I must be bad-hearted to hurt everybody.” “You’re not bad-hearted.” The fierceness with which he defended her made her smile. “You’re not bad-hearted, and I do love you. And I want to marry you only--only I’m so little, and you said it only in fun.” She mothered him till he had grown quiet Then, with her lips against his forehead, “Don’t be ashamed of crying; I like you for it. I’m so very glad we met to-night I think--almost think--you were sent. I hadn’t been kind, and I wasn’t feeling happy. But I’d like to do something good now; I think I’d like to make you smile. How ought I to set about it?” “Sing to me. Oh, please do.” In the firelit room she sang to him in a half-voice, her long throat stretched out and throbbing like a bird’s as she stooped above him. She sang lullabies, making him feel very helpless; and then of lords and cruel ladies and knights. Shadows, sprawling across walls and ceiling, took fantastic shapes: horsemen galloping from castles; men waving swords and grappling in fight A footstep in the passage! He felt her arms tighten. “Close your eyes,” she sang, “close your eyes.” She held up a hand as Mrs. Sheerug entered. “Shish!” “Asleep?” She nodded. Mrs. Sheerug came over to the fire and gazed down. He could feel that she was gazing and was afraid that she would detect that he was awake. It was a relief when he heard her whisper: “It’s too bad of you, Vashti; he’d just reached the turning-point. You’re as irresponsible as a child when your moods take you.” A second chair was drawn up. Vashti had made no reply. Mrs. Sheerug commenced speaking again: “Hal----” “Hal’s gone out. I suppose you’ve been----” “Yes, quarreling. My fault, as usual.” The older woman’s tones became earnest “My dear, you’re not good to my boy. How much longer is it going to last? You’re not--not a safe woman for a man like Hal. He needs some one more loving; you could never make him a good wife. Your profession--I wish you’d give him up.” Then, after a pause, “Won’t you?” The little boy listened as eagerly as Hal’s mother for the reply. At last it came, “I wish I could.” He sat up. She saw the reproach in his eyes, but she gave no sign. “Hulloa! Wakened? Time you were in bed, old fellow.”