han when she had
begun to speak.

"He's dead," she said, and she whisked a handkerchief out of her pocket
and applied it to her eyes. "It was bandits as carried him off. He loved
that innocent virgin he took for his wife like anything. Over and over
have I thought of them, and privately made up my mind that if I came
across his second I'd give him my heart."

"Betty, you must be mad," said nurse.

"Maybe you are mad," retorted Betty, her face flaming, "but I am not. It
was a girl quite as poor as me that he took for his spouse; and why
shouldn't there be another like him? That's what I thought, and when the
wedding came to an end I asked Mary Dugdale to give me a bit of the cake
all private for myself. She's a good-natured sort is Mary, though not
equal to Jones--not by no means. She cut a nice square of the cake, a
beautiful chunk, black with richness as to the fruit part, yellow as to
the almond, and white as the driven snow as to the icing. And, if you'll
believe it, there was just the tip of a wing of one of those angelic
little doves cut off with the icing. Well, I brought it home with me, and
I slept on it just according to the old saw which my mother taught me.
Mother used to say, 'Betty, if you want to dream of your true love, you
will take a piece of wedding-cake that belongs to a fresh-made bride, and
you will put it into your right-foot stocking, and tie it with your
left-foot garter, and put it under your pillow. And when you get into
bed, not a mortal word will you utter, or the spell is broke. And that
you will do, Betty,' said my mother, 'for three nights running. And then
you will put the stocking and the garter and the cake away for three
nights, and at the end of those nights you will sleep again on it for
three nights; and then you will put it away once more for three nights,
and you will sleep on it again for three nights. And at the end of the
last night, why, the man you dream of is he.'"

"Well, and did you go in for all that gibberish?" asked nurse, with
scorn.

She had a duster in her hand, and she vigorously flicked Mr. Dale's desk
as she spoke.

"To be sure I did; and I thought as much over the matter as ought to have
got me a decent husband. Well, when the last night come I lay me down to
sleep as peaceful as an angel, and I folded my hands and shut my eyes,
and wondered what his beautiful name would be, and if he'd be a dook or a
marquis. I incline to a dook myself, having, so to spea