"He isn't a live Molly and she objects to his being a hearse," laughed
Sally. "He must be something between them. What," she inquired, with the
air of propounding a conundrum, "is between a live Molly and a hearse?"

"Give it up!" they cried unanimously.

Sally looked nonplussed, then shrieked: "Why, the pallbearers, of course!"

The silly phrase caught. Thereafter, those who were acknowledged to be all
right enough but not of their feather were known as "pallbearers."

The Keiths were live Mollies. He was decidedly one. His appearance alone
inspired good nature and high spirits, he looked so clean, vividly
coloured, enthusiastic, alive to his finger tips. He was always game for
anything, no matter how ridiculous it made him, or in what sort of a so-
called false position it might place him. When he had reached a certain
state of dancing-eyed joyous recklessness, Nan was always athrill as to
what he might do next. And Nan, spite of her quieter ways and the reserves
imposed on her by her breeding, was altogether too pretty and too much of a
real person ever to be classed as a hearse. With her ravishing Eastern
toilettes, her clear, creamy complexion, and the clean-cut lines of her
throat, chin, and cheeks, she always made the other women look a little too
vividly accented. The men all admired her on sight, and at first did their
best to interest her. They succeeded, for in general they were of vital
stuff, but not in the intimately personal way they desired. Her nature
found no thrill in experiment. One by one they gave her up in the favour of
less attractive but livelier or more complaisant companions; but they
continued to like her and to pay her much general attention. She never, in
any nuance of manner, even tried to make a difference; nevertheless, their