"It _might_ dig potatoes, but Aunt Sophy says you can't depend on any of these contrivances, so the chances are that it _would_ be useless; besides, you said the Emperor shares would dig gold, and they swallowed----" The thought of mining shares is distasteful to me; to have them dragged into the conversation is distracting; to look forward to having every budding plan nipped by the chilling reminders of bygone mistakes that my temperament would allow me to forget was not to be endured. "Marion," I interrupted, hastily, "it's a capital plan! I'll agree to try it if we ever have a farm, if you'll promise never to do or say anything to remind me of that stroke of bad luck." "Don't you mean bad management?" she asked, gayly. "You have a dreadfully lax memory about these things, and I know you would have forgotten the Emperor shares long ago if I hadn't reminded you. However, you know it's for your own good and----" "It isn't," I protested, with vehemence. "It dulls my sensibilities and hardens my heart." Marion shook her head dubiously, but she promised. I do not believe in my own presentiments, for I never have any, unless the ever-present optimistic belief that everything I undertake is going to turn out well is a presentiment, but I have learned by experience to place a certain amount of dependence upon Marion's. Therefore, for a few days after our conversation I confidently expected something to turn up, and every day when I returned home from the office I saw by her inquiring expectant glance that she was looking for the fulfilment of her prediction. As time passed, however, I began to think she had been mistaken, though I did not say so, for I know how annoying it is to have one's mistakes pointed out when one is most keenly conscious of them. Besides, to refrain made me feel magnanimous, and that feeling, perhaps, caused a shade of pitying magnanimity to creep into my tone when we discussed the project; so Marion, who is intensely susceptible to inflections, was perfectly well aware that I was practising one of the higher virtues, as well as showing a delicate consideration for her feelings that she might well copy in regard to mine. Of course, we could do nothing but make plans during the winter; but as spring approached, without any prospect of a change that would give me regular hours of work, it seemed as if we should have to give up, for a time, the prospect of moving to the country.