'Because, dear, it is the proper thing. Now my poor husband was quiet,
so quiet that you never knew if he was there or not. And Edward is
quiet too,--as quiet as--'

'Oh! dunna, dunna!' wailed Hazel.

'Is a pin sticking into you dear?'

'No. Dunna say Ed'ard's quiet!'

Mrs. Marston looked amicably over her spectacles.

'My dear, why not?' she asked.

'I dunna like that sort.'

'Could you explain a little, dear?'

'I dunna like quiet men--nor quiet horses. My mam was quiet when she
was dead. Everybody's quiet when they're dead.'

'Very, very quiet,' crooned Mrs. Marston. 'Yes, we all fall asleep in
our turn.'

'I like,' went on Hazel in her rather crude voice, harsh with youth
like a young blackbird's--'I like things as go quick and men as talk
loud and stare hard and drive like the devil!'

She broke off, flushing at Mrs. Marston's expression, and at the sudden