for boots that were being put down in the fender; ready to speak in a moment if whoever it was did not say anything; the figure turned to the table. It was Christine. If she blew her nose and coughed Christine would know she knew she was there. She turned a page swiftly and wrapped herself deeply in the next. When Christine had gone away with a trayful she resumed her place on the hearthrug ready to see her for the first time when she came in again and catch her eye and say Good _morning_, I wish you a happy Christmas. Christine came shapelessly in and began collecting the remaining things with sullen hands. Her face was closed and expressionless and her eyes downcast. Miriam's eyes followed it, waiting for the eyes to lift, her lips powerless. It was too late to say good morning. Sadness came growing in the room. Her thoughts went homelessly to and fro between her various world and the lumpy figure moving sullenly along the edge of an unknown life. Stepping observantly in through the half-open door with a duster bunched carefully in her hand came Florrie. Miriam flung out a greeting that swept round Christine and out into a shining world. It brought Florrie to her side, shy and eager. Christine taking her final departure looked up. Miriam flushed through her laughter, steadily meeting the expressionless brown glitter of Christine's eyes. Hullo Madam O'Hara she defended, collecting herself for the question that would follow Florrie's encirclement of her waist--Hullo Little Miriam; you _are_ happy ground out Florrie shyly--are you rested?--Yes said Miriam formally, I think I am--They turned, Florrie withdrawing her arm, and stood looking into the fire--Oooch isn't it cold said Grace from the doorway--have you done the hall chairs?--No, I came in here to get warm first--It _is_ cold said Grace coming to the hearthrug--are you warm Miriam darling?--I'm so warm that I think I ought to run upstairs for a constitutional and scrub my teeth said Miriam briskly, preparing to follow Florrie from the room.--Grace dropped her duster and put her arms upon her, raising an anxious pleading face--stay here while I dust sweetheart. You can scrub your teeth when we're gone. _Dear_ pink-face. How are you my sweet? Are you rested? she asked between gentle kisses dabbed here and there--Never berrer old chap. I tell you never _berrer_--Grace laughed gently into her face and stood holding her, smiling her anxious pleading solicitous smile.--I tell you never _berrer_ repeated Miriam. _Dear_ sweet pink face smiled Grace and turned carefully away to her dusting. Miriam sank into an armchair, listening to the soft smooth flurring of the duster over the highly polished surfaces--Well she asked presently--how are things in general?--Grace rose from her knees and carefully shut the door. She came back with fear darkening the velvet lustre of her eyes--Oh I don't know Miriam dear she murmured kneeling on the hearthrug