e, and walked home by his-self to finish his chill."

"And you didn't go with him?" cried Euphemia, indignantly.

"He said, no. It was better thus. He felt it weren't the right thing
to mingle the agur with his marriage vows. He promised to take sixteen
grains to-morrow, and so I came away. He'll be all right in a month or
so, an' then we'll go an' keep house. You see it aint likely I could
help him any by goin' there an' gettin' it myself."

"Pomona," said Euphemia, "this is dreadful. You ought to go and take a
bridal tour and get him rid of those fearful chills."

"I never thought of that," said Pomona, her face lighting up
wonderfully.

Now that Euphemia had fallen upon this happy idea, she never dropped
it until she had made all the necessary plans, and had put them into
execution. In the course of a week she had engaged another servant, and
had started Pomona and her husband off on a bridal-tour, stipulating
nothing but that they should take plenty of quinine in their trunk.

It was about three weeks after this, and Euphemia and I were sitting on
our front steps,--I had come home early, and we had been potting some
of the tenderest plants,--when Pomona walked in at the gate. She looked
well, and had on a very bright new dress. Euphemia noticed this the
moment she came in. We welcomed her warmly, for we felt a great interest
in this girl, who had grown up in our family and under our care.

"Have you had your bridal trip?" asked Euphemia.

"Oh yes!" said Pomona. "It's all over an' done with, an' we're settled
in our house."

"Well, sit right down here on the steps and tell us all about it," said
Euphemia, in a glow of delightful expectancy, and Pomona, nothing loth,
sat down and told her tale.

"You see," said she, untying her bonnet strings, to give an easier
movement to her chin, "we didn't say where we was goin' when we started
out, for the truth was we didn't know. We couldn't afford to take no big
trip, and yet we wanted to do the thing up jus' as right as we could,
seein' as you had set your heart on it, an' as we had, too, for that
matter. Niagery Fall was what I wanted, but he said that it cost so much
to see the sights there that he hadn't money to spare to take us there
an' pay for all the sight-seein', too. We might go, he said, without
seein' the sights, or, if there was any way of seein' the sights without
goin', that might do, but he couldn't do both. So we give that up, and
after thinkin' a