frequent indulgence in festivity. "You see, father, I won't have many
chances after John and I are married: you know how queer he is, and I
must make the most of my time;" and she laughed an odd little laugh,
which had lately become habitual to her. "And how is Mr. Dent getting
on?" Her father replied that he was getting on very well indeed,--so
well, in fact, that he was able to leave for San Francisco two days ago.
"He wanted to be remembered to you, Jinny,--'remembered kindly,'--yes,
they is the very words he used," said Mr. McClosky, looking down, and
consulting one of his large shoes for corroboration. Miss Jenny was glad
to hear that he was so much better. Miss Jenny could not imagine any
thing that pleased her more than to know that he was so strong as to be
able to rejoin his friends again, who must love him so much, and be so
anxious about him. Her father thought she would be pleased, and, now
that he was gone, there was really no necessity for her to hurry
back. Miss Jenny, in a high metallic voice, did not know that she
had expressed any desire to stay, still if her presence had become
distasteful at home, if her own father was desirous of getting rid
of her, if, when she was so soon to leave his roof forever, he still
begrudged her those few days remaining, if--"My God, Jinny, so help me!"
said Mr. McClosky, clutching despairingly at his beard, "I didn't go for
to say any thing of the kind. I thought that you"--"Never mind, father,"
interrupted Jenny magnanimously, "you misunderstood me: of course you
did, you couldn't help it--you're a MAN!" Mr. McClosky, sorely crushed,
would have vaguely protested; but his daughter, having relieved herself,
after the manner of her sex, with a mental personal application of an
abstract statement, forgave him with a kiss.

Nevertheless, for two or three days after her return, Mr. McClosky
followed his daughter about the house with yearning eyes, and
occasionally with timid, diffident feet. Sometimes he came upon her