"I want you to instruct me. Why is it unlucky to break a looking-glass? and what is the counter-charm?"
"I don't know"—here was some awe in her voice—"I don't think there is any counter-charm. If I broke a looking-glass I believe I should have to give up believing in these things altogether. It would make me too unhappy."
I was discreet enough to pass by the admission.
"And why is it unlucky to wear black at a wedding? And if anyone did wear black at your wedding, what would you do?"
"You are very tiresome this evening," she said. "Why don't you keep to the point? Nobody was talking of weddings, and if you must wander, why not stray in more amusing paths? Why don't you talk of something interesting? Why do you try to be disagreeable? If you think I'm silly to believe all these nice picturesque things, why don't you give me your solid, dull, dry, scientific reasons for not believing them?"
"Your wish is my law," I responded with alacrity. "Superstition, then, is the result of the
