dy ----. "But how
are you in these days, Mr. Dodge?"

"Oh, wretchedly ill, as usual," he replied. "The Duc de ---- insisted
upon it that I must come over to England and try cold water again, and
the Emperor, when I left, engaged me to meet him next season at Ems on
condition that I had a more respectable body for my spirit to travel
about in. Here's a little souvenir he gave me at parting," showing a
magnificent diamond on his finger; and I moved on and lost the gorgeous
reminiscences. There was a crowd before the evening was over, and I was
introduced to a score or so of notables in the unorthodox world. But I
seemed destined to funny little dramatic surprises. I had drawn near the
piano to listen to Miss Hedges's "Drink to Me Only," etc., and was
sitting quietly when the song was ended, speaking to no one, not
consciously looking at any one, when a voice near me said, "That is my
wife!" and I woke up to find a roly-poly, little old fellow, all smiles,
insinuation, and plausibility, with a fringe of venerable white hair
around a head round as an apple, bald and shining, smooth, evidently
addressing himself to me. "Yes, that is my wife," he went on, and I
looked with some bewilderment at a young woman his gaze indicated--a
very young woman in a brilliant pink evening dress, the young woman
brilliantly colored herself in solid white and red, with black eyes,
black hair in rebellious tight curls, and a face with about as much
expression as a plate. "Looks rather young for me, don't she? But it's
all right, for the spirits give her to me!"

"And pray, Mr. Wardle, what did the spirits do for the old wife you left
in Terre Haute?" inquired Miss Hedges, wheeling about toward us. "I am
Anna Hedges, and two years ago I painted a portrait of your grandchild,
Benny Davis, for Mrs. Wardle in New York."

"Er--er--I was not aware--er--I remember, that is--er--I think I have
seen--er, er--yes! yes! A very worthy woman, the first Mrs. Wardle--very
worthy. But narrer, narrer! too undeveloped, in fact, to--er--receive
the new gospel, or to--er--make any use of the freedom I gave her to
find a more harmonious partner, as I have done," and the old creature
having floundered into a little more self-possession, smiled amiably,
and retreated in tolerable order.

"I _do_ beg your pardon," went on Miss Hedges to me impulsively; "but
that sleek old villain! I really couldn't help my outburst. His real
wife is one of the nicest, gentlest of