"Pa, dear, if I were you, I'd turn out that rumseller, and let the poor
woman stay a little longer; just a little, pa."

"Sha'n't do it. Hah! that would be scattering money out of both pockets.
Sha'n't do it. Out she shall go; and as for him,--well, he'd better
turn over a new leaf. There, let us leave the subject, darling. It vexes
me. How did we contrive to get into this train? Bah!"

He drew her closer to him, and kissed her forehead. She sat quietly,
with her head on his shoulder thinking very gravely.

"I feel queerly to-day, little Netty," he began, after a short pause.
"My nerves are all high-strung with the turn matters have taken."

"How is it, papa? The headache?" she answered.

"Y-e-s--n-o--not exactly; I don't know," he said dubiously; then, in
an absent way, "it was that letter set me to think of him all day, I
suppose."

"Why, pa, I declare," cried Netty, starting up, "if I didn't forget
all about it, and I came down expressly to give it to you! Where is
it? Oh! here it is."

She drew from her pocket an old letter, faded to a pale yellow, and
gave it to him. The ghost started suddenly.

"Why, bless my soul! it's the very letter! Where did you get that,
Nathalie?" asked Dr. Renton.