The mind of Ellis was growing more and more confused; nor was the
head of Wilkinson so clear as when he entered the bar-room. The
strong glass of brandy toddy was doing its work on both of them.

"Let me see," went on Ellis, in a wandering way. I was speaking of
Cara--oh, yes, of Cara. Bless her heart, but confound her crooked
temper! Now, what would you advise me to do, my old friend?"

"Go home, I have said," replied Wilkinson.

"And get my head combed with a three-legged stool? No, blast me if I
do! I've stayed out this long just to make her sensible of her
unkindness to one of the best of husbands--and I'm not going home
until I am dead drunk. I guess that'll bring her to her bearings.
Ha! Don't you think so, Jack?"

"Good heavens!" was just at this instant exclaimed by one of the
inmates of the bar-room, in a low, startled tone of voice.

"Your wife, as I live!" fell from the lips of Ellis, whose face was
turned towards the entrance of the bar-room.

Wilkinson sprang to his feet. Just within the door stood a female
form, her head uncovered, her under person clad in a white wrapper,
and her face colourless as the dress she wore. There was a wild,
frightened look in her staring eyes.

"Is Mr. Wilkinson here?" she asked, just as her husband's eyes
rested upon her, and her thrilling voice reached his ears.