"I'll tell you what I'd do," said the Beecher woman. "I'd climb up the
back of father, next door, and tell him what his little Daughter has
done, Because I know she's mixed up in it, towle or no towle. Reg is
always sappy when they're seventeen. And she's been looking moon-eyed at
him for days."

Well, the Pattens went away, and Mrs. Beecher manacured her Nails,--I
could hear her fileing them--and sang around and was not much concerned,
although for all she knew he was in the briney deep, a corpse. How true
it is that "the paths of glory lead but to the grave."

I got very tired and much hoter, and I sat down on the floor. After what
seemed like hours, Mrs. Patten came back, all breathless, and she said:

"The girl's gone to, Clare."

"What girl?"

"Next door. If you want Excitement, they've got it. The mother is in
hysterics and there's a party searching the beech for her body, The
truth is, of course, if that towle means anything."

"That Reg has run away with her, of course," said Mrs. Beecher, in a
resined tone. "I wish he would grow up and learn somthing. He's becoming
a nusance. And when there are so many Interesting People to run away
with, to choose that chit!"

Yes, she said that, And in my retreat I could but sit and listen, and
of course perspire, which I did freely. Mrs. Patten went away, after