when Mrs. Richardson called
to see her recent patient, she found the elegant mansion on Auburn
avenue closed and could not ascertain whither the Menckes had gone.

The change proved to be very beneficial. Saratoga was, of course, very
gay; there was a constant round of pleasure into which Violet was at
once drawn, for Mrs. Mencke was a great lover of society, and she soon
became interested as any young girl naturally would under the same
circumstances. There was no more moping--there were no more tears;
Violet gave herself up, with true girlish abandon, to the allurements
that presented themselves on every side, became a great favorite among
the guests of the large hotel, grew round, rosy, happy, and more
beautiful than ever, much to the satisfaction of her sister, who
congratulated herself that the "beggarly young carpenter" was entirely
forgotten.

Two months were spent at this fashionable resort, then six weeks more
were occupied in visiting other places of interest, and when they
returned to Cincinnati, about the middle of September, Violet seemed
entirely herself once more; she was full of life and spirits, the old
light of mischief and happiness danced in her beautiful eyes, while she
was planning for and looking forward to the coming season with all the
zeal and enthusiasm of a young debutante.

The day following their arrival at home Violet came in from a round of
calls that she had been making, and, feeling too weary to go up to her
room just then, she threw herself into a comfortable chair in the
library, and took up a paper that lay on the table.

Almost the first words that caught her eye, and sent a thrill of horror
through her, were these:

"DIED--On the 12th instant, at her home, No. ---- Hughes
street, Mary Ida Richardson, aged 48 years and 9 months.
Funeral from her late residence, the 14th, at 2 o'clock P. M."

A cry of pain broke from Violet as she read this.

Her dear, kind friend dead! Gone away out of the world into eternity,
and she would never see her again!

It did not seem possible; she could not believe it. Poor Wallace, too!
how desolate he would be! And, bowing her face upon her hands, the young
girl sobbed as if her heart was broken.

All at once, however, she started to her feet.

The fact that this was the 14th had suddenly forced itself upon her. The
paper was two days old.

Glancing at the clock she saw that it was half-past twelve; but she
might be in time fo