bout the box
carefully.

"Bran!" she exclaimed incredulously; "that box is too heavy for bran."

Fox dug away for a little while longer and finally shouted, "I've got
something!"

"And what is that something?"

The question was answered by the thing itself, which now appeared from
the bottom of the box, vigorously lifted by Fox's hand and plumped
through the bran upon the carpet.

"Well, what is it?" she demanded.

"Vegetable," said Fox tersely.

"Oh, pshaw! is _that_ all?" asked the disgusted woman.

"Yes, that's all," he replied, after digging about in the bran for a
moment. Mrs. Winslow also satisfied herself that it was all by searching
in the bran, and the two then proceeded to investigate the vegetable.

"It's a turnip, and somebody's been digging in it," said Mrs. Winslow.

"I think you are mistaken," mildly interposed Fox. "It's something else
entirely."

"What's this!" exclaimed the woman; "sure as I live, a cross-bones and
skull on one side, and on the other side, 'D-e-a-d'--dead!"

"It isn't dead turnip!" interrupted Fox.

"Dead beet?" she asked musingly, a sudden crimson flooding into her
face.

"Shouldn't wonder," he answered.

Biting her lips she glided to a window. It was a cold autumn day, and
the panes rattled drearily as she seemed to shrink and hide between them
and the heavy curtains, while the color came and went hotly in her face.
It hurt her, wounded her, showed her to be the thing she was in a way
that could never have been effected by ten thousand innuendoes or direct
charges; and she pressed her face against the cold panes as if to force
and drive away the hideous picture that a momentarily honest glimpse of
herself had revealed to her, and continued standing thus, buried in the
memories which build remorse, until, noticing the thing in her hand
which had caused this humiliation, she flung it violently across the
room, and rushing into her sleeping-room, hastily prepared for going
out, then dashing through the reception-room, she passed into the hall,
and meeting Bristol, said:

"Bristol, I want you to come with me!"

Bristol immediately complied, but was given a lively chase, for Mrs.
Winslow was strong of limb, fleet of foot, and, on this occasion, was
impelled by a burst of spirit which, if rightly directed, would have led
a conquering army.

She started directly for Main Street, and turned up that thoroughfare at
a pace which attracted considerable attention. After r