aching heart that it should be so
desolate and dreary. In the morning they dolefully wished each other "A
Merry Christmas!" and, after a late and melancholy breakfast, sat in
conclave in the library, to discuss the situation.

"Where they all can have gone to, puzzles me," observed Mrs. Rutherford.
"There is not a house this side of Winchester where they could get
accommodation for the night."

"It was bitter cold last night," sighed Mrs. Wildfen; "and poor Steve is
such a shivery fellow anyway, he would have frozen if he had tried to
walk to town."

"Perhaps they're all frozen," suggested Miss Fithian, with an air of
hopelessness.

"If they are," said Mrs. Rutherford, sternly, "you, Helen, will have
four murders on your soul."

"I don't see why you couldn't have kept quiet, at least till after
Christmas. It wasn't any of your business anyway," remarked Mrs.
Wildfen, aggressively, to the old maid.

"Umph!" sniffed Miss Fithian. "It's safest not to rub cats the wrong
way"--which ambiguous expression her hearers vaguely construed as having
merely a general application, they not knowing its personal
significance.

"Well, it has just completely spoiled our Christmas," sighed Plowden's
young wife.

"And theirs too--if there's any comfort in that," added Mrs. Honey. "I
never knew my angel boy to show so much spirit before. His favorite corn
must have been very bad."

No one inquired the relation between his spirit and his corns.

"Have any of you decided upon a course of action?" inquired the hostess.
"You don't seem to, since you say nothing. Well, I have, then. As soon
as the law courts open after Christmas, I shall apply for a divorce from
Mr. Rutherford."

"I don't see upon what ground," observed Mrs. Honey, who was not only
the oldest but the most practically informed woman present.

"He has deceived me."

"His putting a young girl in my charge proves nothing; not even that. It
seems to me that there is a game of cross-purposes here--something
underneath all this that we do not understand, and that only the
interested parties can explain."

"Explain in their own way," retorted Mrs. Rutherford.

"Ladies," said the amiable Mrs. Plowden, "what has occurred is very
unpleasant, but for all of you is only a little disagreement that
really--as Mrs. Honey says--may be capable of explanation and eventual
reconciliation with your husbands. But what is my position? I am the
only one who has been terribly deceiv