sister has come out in a waist made of second-hand alpaca?'--See the
point now?"

"Mr. BUMSTEAD," exclaims FLORA, affrighted by the terrible menace of his
manner, "I don't any more believe that Mr. PENDRAGON is guilty than I,
myself, am; and as for your old umbrella--"

"Stop, woman!" interrupted the bereaved organist, imperiously. "Not even
your lips shall speak disrespectfully of my lost bone-handled friend. By
a chain of unanswerable argument, I have shown you that I hold the fate
of your southern acquaintances in my hands, and shall be particularly
sorry if you force me to hang Mr. PENDRAGON as a rival."

FLORA puts her hands to her temples, to soothe her throbbing head and
display a bracelet.

"Oh, what shall I do! I don't want anybody to be hung! It must be so
perfectly awful!"

Her touching display of generous feeling does not soften him. On the
contrary, he stands more erect, and smiles rather triumphantly under his
straw hat.

"Beloved one," he murmurs, in a rich voice, "I find that I cannot induce
you to make the first advance toward the mutual avowal we are both
longing for, and must therefore precipitate our happiness myself. My
poor boy would not have given you perfect satisfaction, and your
momentary liking for the male PENDRAGON was but the effect of a
temporary despair undoubtedly produced by my seeming coldness. That
coldness had nothing to do with my heart, but resulted partially from my