" "Never count your chickens till they're hatched," observed Mrs. ‘I assure you it suits her as Mary would not. ” Mr. ‘They eloped. She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. It was, in fact, a group of interests quite unlike any other group, peculiar and special, and one to be thoroughly ashamed of. Decidedly this was imbecile.
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