disturbed to bring her easy philosophy to bear on the situation. "Of all things, do not get morbid."
"But it is the truth!" persisted Nattie. "Even my name, for instance, proves it! I was christened Nathalie, a very fine poetic name. But, in all my life no one ever called me by it! I was always mediocre Nattie!"
"And I have curtailed you down to Nat!" said Cyn, with whimsical remorse. "But what a tangle we are in! First it was the man of musk and bear's grease, who came between you! Then, when he was explained away, came blundering I! Why did you not lock me out of sight somewhere? I would have done it myself had I known" ironically—"what an extremely fascinating and dangerous person I was!"
At this Nattie could not help smiling.
"Is was not your fault; it was Fate!" she said, her smile becoming a sigh, that Cyn echoed, for she thought of Jo. But yet unconvinced, she said,
"Fate! No; it cannot be! I think better of Clem than to believe he, too, has made a mistake, like Quimby, and fallen in love with the wrong woman!" then starting up, she exclaimed, tragically, "Who? ah! who shall cut the Gordian knot
