With some success Mary had studied the art; now gave that Mary-in-the-
glass who stood before her a healthy reproof.

"The ridiculous thing you did," Mary-in-the-glass was told--"the
ridiculous thing you did to make yourself miserable was to go thinking
about--about Ireland."

The mouth of Mary-in-the-glass ominously twitched.

"There you go again. And it is so absolutely forbidden to think about
that. Whatever's the use of it?"

Mary-in-the-glass could adduce no reason, and must be prodded.

"Does it do you any good? Does it do _them_ any good, do you suppose,
to know that you can never think of them without making yourself
unhappy?"

Mary-in-the-glass attempted a weak quibble; was instantly snapped.

"I'm not saying you are _never_ to think of them. Goodness knows what
I should do if I did not. It's all right to think of them when you are
happy and they can share the happiness with you; but, when you choose
to be idiotically miserable, that's the time you are not to go whining
anywhere near them--understand? You only make them unhappy and make
your troubles worse. Troubles! if you can't see the fun of Mrs.
Chater, you must be a wretched sort of person. Her face when the cab
brought her back! And trying to feel her heart! And her rage with that
little worm of a Mr. Chater! Can't you see the fun of it instead of
crying over it?"