ne
until the next day, and finally she subsided into silent tears. All this
while Dolf sat without offering one word of consolation; now he said:

"Mebby dar's some mistake, Othello."

"No, dar ain't," persisted Othello. "Mr. Moseby's lost ten thousand
dollars; he'd orter know. De bank's gone to smash, clar nuff."

Clo burst into a new paroxysm of distress, and Dolf, after a brief
struggle with his own disappointment, turned on her:

"Yer needn't rouse de house wid yer hurlyburly," said he, savagely.
"Better 'member Miss Elsie's sick."

Clo stared at him in tearless horror; a new fear struck her; was he
going to prove false?

"Don't talk so," she said; "tink of yesterday, Dolf!"

Dolf drew himself up, and looked first at her and then at the company
with an air of profound astonishment.

"I tink her brain am turned," said he.

"'Taint!" roared Clo. "Oh, Dolfy, yer said yer loved me; yer knows yer
did; dat yer didn't care for money; dat I was a Wenus in yer
eyes--oh--oh!"

"Wal, I do declar!" cried Vic.

Dolf flew into a great rage.

"Miss Clorindy, yer sorrow makes yer forget yerself; yer've ben a
dreaming."

Clo drew her apron from her eyes and looked at him; lightning was
gathering there which he would have done well to heed, but he did not.

"Does yer mean that?" she demanded, sternly.

"Sartin, I does."

"Yer denies kneelin' at my feet an' sayin', "Wasn't de onions made yer
cry;" a pleadin' and a coaxin' till I 'sented to marry yer."

"In course I does," repeated Dolf, doggedly.

"Take care! Jis' tink!"

"Miss Clo, dis ere ain't decorous; I'se 'stonished at yer!"

With a bound like an unchained tigress Clo sprang at him. Dolf dodged,
ran behind the startled group, in and out among the chairs, through the
kitchen, back again, and Clo at his heels. She had caught up a broom;
once or twice she managed to hit him, and her sobs of rage mingled with
Dolf's cries of distress.

"Take her off," he shrieked; "ketch a hold of her!"

"I'll kill him," shouted Clo. "I'll break every bone in his 'fernal
body! Oh, yer varmint, yer cattle!"

They laid hands on Clorinda at length, though it was a difficult
operation; and Dolf took refuge behind a great chair, peeping through
the slats at the back, with his eyes rolling and his teeth chattering
like some frightened monkey in a cage.

The women were consoling and blaming Clo; Vic divided between conviction
and anger, and Othello, like a sensible man, sidi