recalled a text and so got by; which text was the wise saying of that
female Solomon, "se aunt of my muss-er"--"One man can't ever'sing have,
and mine"--establishment is already complete.

Meantime, Mrs. Fontenette, from farthest off in our group, had slipped
around to the Baroness. She spoke something low, stroking her downy fan
and blushing with that damsel sweetness of which her husband was so openly
fond.

"O no, I sank you!" answered Senda, in an undulating voice. "I sank you
v'ey much, but I cannot take se time to come to yo' house, and I cannot
let you take se trouble _too_ come _too_ mine. No, if I can have me only
se right soughts, and find me se right vords for se right soughts, I sink
I leave se p'onunciation to se mercy of P'ovidence."

Mrs. Fontenette blushed as prettily as a child, and let her husband take
her hand as he said, "The Providence that wou'n' have mercy on such a
pronunshation like that--ah well, 'twould have to become v'ey unpopular!"

"Anyhow," cooed Senda, "I risk it;" and then to his wife--"For se present,
siss betteh I sew for you san spell for you."

Thus was our fair neighbor at every turn overmatched by the trustful love
of the man and watchful love of the woman, whose fancied inferiority was
her excuse for an illicit infatuation; an infatuation which little by
little became a staring fact--only not to Fontenette. You know, you can
hide such a thing from those who love and trust you, but not long from
those who do not; and if you are not old in sin--Flora and the Baron were
infants--you will almost certainly think that a condition hid from those
who love and trust you is hid from all! O fools! the very urchins of the