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 "On principle, yes, because it's sure to be something rash. As a matter of fact, no, because you're the only sensible rash person there is."

Louise was delighted. "It's Papa's stubborn belief in my common sense, more than anything else, that gives me the courage of my enlightened rashness," she proclaimed.

At this Keble turned with a smile to Miriam. "Now I see what you meant by brute. It's because I won't always acknowledge the enlightenment of rashness."

Miriam colored a little, to her great annoyance. "Really, you mustn't seek meanings in my random words."

"Oh, then it wasn't meant literally?"

"There aren't any literal brutes left; only figurative ones. Must I do penance for a levity I admit to have been uncalled for?"

"I'll let you off,—with the warning that I shall watch your remarks more closely in future."

"Then I can only defend myself by becoming the objectionable thing you called me!"

"Diplomat! Is that objectionable?"

"Rather. It implies the existence of things to be connived at. Once you've admitted diplomat you've admitted stakes, and rivalry."

Mrs. Brown was on what she called tender hooks. Her husband was waggishly of the opinion that the cheque would end by being spent on wagon loads of sugar for Sundown, that pampered circus beast.