pity it. Mrs. Darius Harden did well, perhaps, not to wear her possible heart upon her sleeve; and as long as Darius Harden believed in its existence, it mattered little what other people thought about it. Philip Rondelet shared Darius Harden's belief. Her servants and her dogs would have given their testimony in favor of it, had they been asked.
"Why should we not go to-morrow?" queried Mrs. Harden.
"Why, indeed, if Miss Ruysdale is free."
"Well, Margaret?"
"Thank you, it will not be possible. I am afraid papa will be in despair at my neglected work."
"Now look here, Margaret; you shant be counted out. I know it 's because you are mad with me. Now don't be dignified, it 's no use. I can bamboozle your father into going—in two twos and a fourteen. General Ruysdale!"
"Yes, Mrs. Harden?" The General looked up from his map.
"I am very anxious to persuade you to join an expedition up the river to-morrow. I want to show you how beautiful the country is there." This with a sudden bewildering smile, a flash of infantine blue eyes, and teeth small and even as the kernels on an ear of young corn.
"Margaret is so disagreeable," continued the wily persecutor. "She says that she cannot
