He put his hand over hers on the rail. They were old friends, the bishop
and the Jenningses.

"Well, how goes it to-day with the father?" he said in a low tone, and
smiling.

Miss Patty shrugged her shoulders. "Worse, if possible."

"I thought so," he said cheerfully. "If state of mind is any criterion
I should think he has had a relapse. A little salt, Minnie." Miss Patty
stood watching him while he tasted it.

"Bishop," she said suddenly, "will you do something for me?"

"I always have, Patty." He was very fond of Miss Patty, was the bishop.

"Then--to-night, not later than eight o'clock, get father to play
cribbage, will you? And keep him in the card-room until nine."

"Another escapade!" he said, pretending to be very serious. "Patty,
Patty, you'll be the death of me yet. Is thy servant a dog, that he
should do this thing?"

"Certainly NOT," said Miss Patty. "Just a dear, slightly bald, but still
very distinguished slave!"

The bishop picked up her left hand and looked at the ring and from that
to her face.

"There will be plenty of slaves to kiss this little hand, where you are