moving the clothes-posts, an
entirely different variety in the forestry of a city back yard. The four
posts were firmly planted in three feet of hard-packed dirt. She bent
her stout back to the task of bringing them up root and all, and with a
winding hold of bulging arms and feet braced to the flagging she yanked,
tugged and strained, turned boiling red and spluttered brogue anathema.
Mrs. Tescheron found her thus engaged.

"The bloomin' t'ings is sthuck in the dirrt, ma'am, but I'll take the
axe to 'em."

Mrs. Tescheron had frequently told this story with pride in close
relation to some modern instance of Bridget's cleverness in domestic
service to set off the then and now, with the reflections of credit for
the mistress the historical anecdote involved. No harm could come to the
home in Bridget's hands, Mrs. Tescheron believed; but no woman could
leave without giving orders. When Bridget moved away, sure she had
everything in mind just as it was to receive attention, Mrs. Tescheron
gazed about the room blankly as if she knew something must have been
overlooked, till her eyes rested on her calm, patient daughter, the
harbor in every domestic storm.

"Gabrielle, my dear," asked Mrs. Tescheron softly, "are you sure this
Mr. Hosley is the strong, brave man you think he is? Remember, darling,
I have said little to you about him--but really he seems to have greatly
upset your father, and having done that, of course, our home is
involved. All I ask of you, my dear, is, are you sure? That is all. I
know how easily your father is led away to follow the bent of his own
desires and I know you, too, my dear--you are my own sober, thoughtful
father again. Tell me, Gabrielle, are you sure?"

"I am perfectly sure, mother. Father places more faith in hearsay and in
the statements of the knaves who are leading him on, than he does in
anything we can say. I am glad to have your confidence, mother. My plan
is to allow father to do as he wills, so that he may run the full length
of his folly. To me, it is most foolish and absurd; but why argue with
father if we would convince him? You know all we can do is to let him
act as he pleases. He shall not make you uncomfortable, mother. I will
let him storm and rage, but he must not send you to some horrible hotel
to live away from your friends. I will--"

"But you will stay there with me, Gabrielle, will you not?"

"I shall see that you are comfortably settled there and then I shall be