e apartment about the neighborhood. To take him to hospital
meant that a score of sick or semi-convalescents should be disturbed. If
Madame could not sleep where she was, let Madame move. There was nothing
on earth the matter with, Madame but nerves--and a nuisance in shape of
a maid, said the doctor, whereat Felicie had proclaimed him, too, a
monster, and fled to Madame. Mrs. Stone had indeed come and offered Mrs.
Dwight shelter under the colonel's roof, but she said at the same time
the colonel drew the line at the maid, and told Wallen he would not
tolerate that bunch of frippery and impudence. Mrs. Dwight was in dread
and misery. What _could_ have happened to so prostrate her beloved
husband? No, a thousand times no, she could not think of leaving him!
What she needed was restoratives--something to give her strength that
she might hie to his bedside and tenderly nurse and care for him. She
had had too much restorative, swore Wallen, when he heard this tale.
"We've shut off the champagne with which that hussy had been dosing
her--not that she didn't demand it--and now it's Katzenjammer as much as
anything else. If anybody is to move, let the maid move her to the spare
room on the floor below--where Foster slept." But Inez could not think
of moving so far from her husband's side.

Of Dwight's sudden insanity (so most of Minneconjou regarded it) and his
furious treatment of little Jim the garrison spoke with bated breath and
infinite compassion and distress. Nothing but mental derangement could
account for it. Mrs. Thornton and Priscilla, it may be conjectured, did
not confide to their neighbors any too much of their share in the
matter, Mrs. Thornton assuring all who questioned her that _she_ had
done her _best_ to assure the major that Jimmy could not possibly have
purposely or knowingly struck her boy, which was partially true; and
Priscilla had declined all conversation on the subject, save with her
aunt, and Mrs. Ray, it may be surmised, was not the woman to tell
broadcast of her niece's responsibility in the premises, whatever she
might later say to Oswald Dwight. Moreover, Marion Ray was not then in
mood to talk confidentially with anyone outside of her own doors, for
the misfortune--the wrong--that had come to Sandy had well-nigh
overwhelmed her.

Like the man he was, Stone had called at the house the moment she
intimated through his own messenger that she was in readiness to see
him. The adjutant before retur