ed, beyond the possibility of a
doubt, and the consequences of that deceit are irreparable. If Mr.
Plowden left a legitimate wife in England, then what is my position?
What am I?"

"The divorce court," said Mrs. Rutherford, "is as open to you as to me."

"But I don't want a divorce from my Robert," sobbed the "willowy" and
now weeping Gertrude.

"And you don't need any if he has really been guilty of bigamy," added
the practical Mrs. Honey.

"Oh, I'm sure he did not intend to deceive me. He must have married me
by mistake."

"Married by mistake! That's a new way of marrying. Ha, ha!" laughed Miss
Fithian, scornfully.

"I am willing," continued Mrs. Plowden, unheeding the old maid's
taunting laugh, "to wait for his explanation before condemning him, if
he would only come back and make it; but I fear he may never do so. Even
now I tremble to think that he may be behind prison bars."

"If so," replied Mrs. Wildfen, "he at least is well fed and warm, no
doubt, while my poor Steve is wandering over the frozen roads, in the
snow, houseless, hungry--and on Christmas, of all days in the year."

"What a wretched quarrel, when there should be 'peace on earth,
good-will to men'!" commented Mrs. Honey. "I could find it in my heart
to forgive William, if only for the sake of the season."

None of the ladies felt "up" to going to church, so they passed the
time, until luncheon was served, speculating upon what had become of the
gentlemen, and how they were faring. When they returned to the library,
and were talking there, the Indian-like ear of Mrs. Rutherford caught
unwonted sounds in the dining-room, and she quickly glided into the
hall-way to learn the cause of the violent clattering of dishes,
scuffling of feet, and masculine coughing she heard. Darting into the
dining-room, she surprised Sam (was the artful Sam surprised?) in the
act of clearing the remains of the luncheon from the table and packing
them into a large market-basket.

"Why, Sam!" she demanded, "what does this mean?"

"Fo' de Lawd, missus, I dassent tell," he replied, affecting great
confusion.

"You must. I insist upon it. Where are you going with that basket of
food?"

"Well, missus, ef I must 'fess, I 'fess. I gwine take it to mars'r. I'se
on'y a pore ole nigger, but I can't let de gemmen starve, specially
young mars'r."

"Where is he?"

"In de billiard-house, missus. All de gemmen dah. Dey's mose starbe',
mose froze; don't hab nuffin but co