'Miss Hazel!--Dear Miss Hazel!--Dear _me_, Miss Hazel!--here's the
morning, ma'am,--and Gotham, and Mr. Falkirk!'

So far the young eyes unclosed as to see that they could see
nothing--unless the flame of a wind-tossed candle,--then with a
disapproving frown they closed again.

'But Miss Hazel?' remonstrated Mrs. Saddler.

'Well?' said Wych Hazel with closed eyes.

'Mr. Falkirk's dressed, ma'am.'

'What is it to me if Mr. Falkirk chooses to get up over
night?'

'But the stage, ma'am!'

'The stage can wait.'

'The stage won't, Miss Hazel,' said Mrs. Saddler, earnestly.
'And Gotham says it's only a question of time whether we can
catch it now.'

Something in these last words had an arousing power, for the
girl laughed out.

'Mrs. Saddler, how _can_ one wake up, with the certainty of
seeing a tallow candle?'

'Dear me,' said Mrs. Saddler hurrying to light two tall
sperms, 'if _that's_ all, Miss Hazel--'

'That's not all. What's the matter with Mr. Falkirk this
morning?'

'Why nothing, ma'am. Only he said you wanted to take the first
stage to Chickaree.'

'Which I didn't, and don't.'

'And Gotham says,' pursued Mrs. Saddler, 'that if it is the
first, ma'am, we'll save a day to get to Chickaree on
Thursday.'

Whereupon, Wych Hazel sprung at once into a state of physical
and mental action which nearly blew Mrs. Saddler away.

'Look,' she said, tossing the curls over her comb,--'there's my
new travelling dress on the chair.'

'Another new travelling dress!' said Mrs. Saddler with
upraised hands.

'And the hat ribbands match,' said Wych Hazel, 'and the
gloves. And the veil is a shade lighter. Everything matches
everything, and everything matches me. You never saw my match
before, did you Mrs. Saddler?'

'Dear me! Miss Hazel,' said the good woman again. 'You do talk
so wonderful!'

It was splendid to see her look of dismay, and amusement, and
admiration, all in one, and to catch a glimpse of the other
face--fun and mischief and beauty, all in one too! To put on
the new dress, to fit on the new gloves,--Wych Hazel went down
to Mr. Falkirk in admirable spirits.

Mr. Falkirk looked gloomy. As indeed anything might, in that
hall; with the front door standing open, and one lamp burning
till day should come; and the chill air streaming in. Mr.
Falkirk paced up and down with the air of a man prepared for
the worst. He shook Wych Hazel grimly by the hand, and she
laughed out,

'How charming it is,