l," she said, "I am gone!"

"Gone?" asked the other. "What do you mean?"

"Sent for--done up--wilted--caved in--and any other descriptive words
that may happen to be in the language!" was the reply.

"What ails you? Are you crazy?" was the not unnatural inquiry of Bell.

"Crazy? No!" answered the wild girl. "I wonder if I ever shall be!" and
for the instant her eyes were very sad, as if some painful thought had
been touched. But the instant after sunshine broke into them again, as
she said, making a motion of her hand towards the door:--

"That's _he_!"

Bell Crawford looked, but did not see any one, and the fact rather added
to her impression that Miss Josey had suddenly taken leave of her
senses. "Who's _he_? I don't see him!" she replied.

"Pshaw! how stupid you are!" said Josey, pettishly. "See here. Let me
tell you something. Do you remember one day, five or six weeks ago, when
I came into your house a little in a hurry, with a bunch of violets for
Dick?"

"Yes," said Bell, "I remember it, by the fact that you nearly pulled off
the bell-handle because the door was not opened quick enough."

"Right," said Joe, as if she had been complimented by the observation.
"That's me. If Betty doesn't answer the bell a little quicker, some of
these times, you will find that piece of silver-plating at a junk-shop,
sold for old iron. Well, do you happen to remember what I told you and
Dick on that occasion?"

"Oh, good gracious, no!" exclaimed Bell provokingly. "Surely you can't
expect me to keep any account of what _you_ say in the course of a
month. Stop, though--I _do_ remember something. You said, I believe,
that coming up Madison Avenue you found the bunch of violets carrying a
small boy--or the other way; and that at the same time you found a
hat--wasn't it a hat?"

"Bah!" said Joe. "You have kept hold of the wrong end of the story, of
course. I said that just as I met the small boy with the violets and
their perfume began to set me crazy and make me think of being out in
the country among the laughing brooks and the singing birds and
the--yes, the cows and the chickens--that just then some one else met
the small boy and the violets. That was the proprietor of the eyes, and
if it had not been for that outrageous hat I should have had a full view
of them. As it was, they nearly spoiled my peace of mind altogether, and
I have been sighing ever since--Heigho!--haven't you heard me sighing
all around in odd corners