beginning to learn my profession practically as
soon as may be; what I expect is——" Mabel
paused a moment doubtfully, and then resumed:
"Well, what I expect is that, with youth and
strength, and a determination to work hard,
and a good motive to spur me on to exertion,
and your help, dear aunt and uncle, I shall be
able to earn my own living, and even to do
something to help mamma and educate dear little
Julian."

"WelI answered, Mabel," said her uncle,
passing his hand lightly over the girl's head, as
he spoke: "well answered, little woman. How
her voice reminds me of Philip's, to be sure!
Just as I can remember the sound of it, when
we were little lads together." And the blind
man sighed softly.

His wife instantly pressed closer to him, and
took one of his hands between hers.

"Bless thee, Mary," said her husband.
"Don't think I'm fretting, my own one. No,
no; the sound of the child's voice carried me
back to the days of lang syne for a moment.
But there was no Mary in those days; no Mary
and no bairns. I wouldn't lose you and change
back again, wifie; not even to see the blessed
sunshine again. But come, come! We're a
pretty cabinet council, wasting our time on
anything but the matter in hand:—though
perhaps that has been known to happen in more
august assemblies. Well now, Mabel, I need
not ask if you have my sister-in-law's consent
to making this attempt, because I'm sure you
wouldn't go against her wishes."

"Mamma disliked the idea very much at first,
Uncle John. The people about her are full of
the strongest prejudices against everything
connected with the theatre. But she yielded to
my strong wish at last."

"Good! Still, another thing must be thought
of, Mabel. You were unfortunate in your first
experiment at governessing. But we are not to
conclude from that, that all schools are like the
school at Eastfield, or that all school-mistresses
are like Mrs. Hatchett. The good we can get
out of the prejudices of other people is to learn
to try to overcome our own. Have you quite
made up your mind that such a position, even
under tavourable circumstances, would be
distasteful to you?"

"Quite, Uncle John."

"You know, Mabel, if you go on the stage,
you will have many rubs to encounter. It
isn't all smooth sailing, even for the lucky
ones. You must make up your mind to work
hard, to be patient, and to hold a steady course
undauntedly. You know the Arabian story
which tells how the princess had to climb a
rugged mountain to reach the magic bird, the
singing tree, and the golden water. The
mountain was strewn with black stones, the petrified
remains of those who had striven in vain to
reach the summit. The sole condition of
success was to turn a deaf ear to the clamour of
taunting voices that filled the air, and tempted
one to look back. The princess wisely distrusted
her own strength, so she filled her ears
with cotton, and having thus rendered them
impervious to the mocking voices, made her way
victoriously up the hill, and seized the prize she
had come for. Now, Mabel, you certainly
cannot stuff your ears with cotton, but you must
fill your mind and occupy your attention with
thoughts that shall serve to deaden very
considerably the idle babble that might otherwise
distract you from the goal."

"Dear uncle, I will try. I don't fear work,
and I am most willing to learn. It must be a
steep hill that shall turn me, Uncle John."

"Well, my child, God prosper you! You're
my dear brother's own daughter, every inch
of you. Tell Phil a thing was difficult, and
you might be sworn he would try to master it.
I've done my preachment, Mabel. I have
plenary absolution to talk as much as I like.
I can do so little—so very little—beside. When
it comes to real practical business, I must hand
you over to Aunt Mary."

"I'm sure, John," said his wife, indignantly,
"you're very practical. Now, dear Mabel, since
you are resolved, I must tell you what plan we
had talked over among ourselves. We go, as I
told you, to Kilclare every summer. The
manager is an old acquaintance of mine, and, as
the place is small, and everything on a diminutive
scale, and he can't afford a large company,
I dare say he would be very glad to give you a
trial. Only I fear, Mabel, you mustn't expect
any salary at first; but if you do well, it will
not be long before you will be able to earn a
salary, never fear. The first thing to be done is
to write to Moffatt—he is the manager of the
Kilclare circuit—and hear what he says. I have
not the least doubt as to his answer. Then you
must get up in a few stock pieces. The leading
lady won't let you have much business."

"Much business, Aunt Mary?"

"Many good parts, child. But I shall stipulate
for one or two of the lightest of the juvenile
lead, to give you practice; and then you must
take walking ladies, or utility, or whatever comes
uppermost."

"Oh, of course, aunt." (Mabel guessed at
the meaning of these terms.)

"And then we must see about dresses for
you. Fortunately, Polly is on a larger scale than
you are, so the chief alterations needed will be
to take in, and that's always easy. There are a
good many of her costumes lying by. We will
see about all that to-morrow. You'll take
Polly's old place with me. Janet's always busy
with her father, you know. The first time I
went to Kilclare without Polly, I felt quite lost.
It will be the greatest comfort in the world to
me to have you; but here are Polly, and Jack,
and Janet, and Charles, and baby, all coming
across the square. Now, Mabel, prepare to like
my son-in-law very much, and to fall over head
and ears in love with baby."

CHAPTER II. MESOPOTAMIA AND THE VIOLIN.

MADAME BENSA ran into the sitting-room
with outstretched arms, and catching Mabel in
them, hugged her heartily.