like a rooster, or stumble over his own feet--anything to raise a
laugh."

"Aren't you afraid these epigrams may reach your victim?" asked
Montague, with a smile.

"That is what they are intended to do," was the reply.

"I judge you have not many enemies," added Mrs. Billy, after a
pause.

"No especial ones," said he.

"Well," said she, "you should cultivate some. Enemies are the spice
of life. I mean it, really," she declared, as she saw him smile.

"I had never thought of it," said he.

"Have you never known what it is to get into a really good fight?
You see, you are conventional, and you don't like to acknowledge it.
But what is there that wakes one up more than a good, vigorous
hatred? Some day you will realise it--the chief zest in life is to
go after somebody who hates you, and to get him down and see him
squirm."

"But suppose he gets you down?" interposed Montague.

"Ah!" said she, "you mustn't let him! That is what you go into the
fight for. Get after him, and do him first."