ffort to
express itself, not altogether without success.

"I think it is quite likely, Mr. Sarrazin, that some dreadful misfortune
will fall on my daughter, as the punishment of her undutiful disregard
of her mother's objections. In that case, I shall feel it my duty to
return and administer maternal consolation. When you write, address me
at my banker's. I make allowances for a lawyer, sir; I don't blame You."

She opened the door for the third time--stepped out, and stepped back
again into the room--suddenly gave her daughter a fierce
kiss--returned to the door--shook her fist at Mrs. Linley with a
theatrically-threatening gesture--said, "Unnatural child!"--and, after
this exhibition of her better nature, and her worse, left us at last.
When you visit the remarried pair on their return from their second
honeymoon, take Mrs. Presty with you.

3.--The Lawyer's Last Word.

"When you force this ridiculous and regrettable affair on my attention"
(I think I hear Mrs. Sarrazin say), "the least you can do is to make
your narrative complete. But perhaps you propose to tell me personally
what has become of Kitty, and what well-deserved retribution has
overtaken Miss Westerfield."

No: I propose in this case also to communicate my information in
writing--at the safe distance from home of Lincoln's Inn Fields.

Kitty accompanies her father and mother to the Continent, of course. But
she insisted on first saying good-by to the dear friend, once the dear
governess, whom she loves. Randal and I volunteered to take her (with
her mother's ready permission) to see Miss Westerfield. Try not to be
angry. Try not to tear me up.

We found Captain Bennydeck and his pretty secretary enjoying a little
rest and refreshment, after a long morning's work for the good of the
Home. The Captain was carving the chicken; and Sydney, by his side, was
making the salad. The house-cat occupied a third chair, with her eyes
immovably fixed on the movements of the knife and fork. Perhaps I was
thinking of sad past days. Anyway, it seemed to me to be as pretty a
domestic scene as a man could wish to look at. The arrival of Kitty made
the picture complete.

Our visit was necessarily limited by a due remembrance of the hour of
departure, by an early tidal train. Kitty's last words to Sydney bade
her bear their next meeting in mind, and not be melancholy at only
saying good-by for a time. Like all children, she asks strange
questions. When we wer