or my trunk as soon as you like; but I
shall stay here, and confront that man with the proof of his vileness. I
will put him face to face with his infamy."

I do not know whether Colonel Starbottle thoroughly appreciated the
convincing proof of Tretherick's unfaithfulness and malignity afforded
by the damning evidence of the existence of Tretherick's own child in
his own house. He was dimly aware, however, of some unforeseen obstacle
to the perfect expression of the infinite longing of his own sentimental
nature. But, before he could say anything, Carry appeared on the landing
above them, looking timidly, and yet half-critically, at the pair.

"That's her," said Mrs. Tretherick excitedly. In her deepest emotions,
in either verse or prose, she rose above a consideration of grammatical
construction.

"Ah!" said the colonel, with a sudden assumption of parental affection
and jocularity that was glaringly unreal and affected. "Ah! pretty
little girl, pretty little girl! How do you do? How are you? You find
yourself pretty well, do you, pretty little girl?" The colonel's impulse
also was to expand his chest and swing his cane, until it occurred to
him that this action might be ineffective with a child of six or seven.
Carry, however, took no immediate notice of this advance, but further
discomposed the chivalrous colonel by running quickly to Mrs. Tretherick
and hiding herself, as if for protection, in the folds of her gown.
Nevertheless, the colonel was not vanquished. Falling back into
an attitude of respectful admiration, he pointed out a marvelous
resemblance to the "Madonna and Child." Mrs. Tretherick simpered, but
did not dislodge Carry as before. There was an awkward pause for a
moment; and then Mrs. Tretherick, motioning significantly to the child,
said in a whisper: "Go now. Don't come here again, but meet me tonight
at the hotel." She extended her hand: the colonel bent over it gallantly
and, raising his hat, the next moment was gone.

"Do you think," said Mrs. Tretherick with an embarrassed voice and a
prodigious blush, looking down, and addressing the fiery curls just
visible in the folds of her dress--"do you think you will be 'dood' if I
let you stay in here and sit with me?"

"And let me tall you Mamma?" queried Carry, looking up.

"And let you call me Mamma!" assented Mrs. Tretherick with an
embarrassed laugh.

"Yeth," said Carry promptly.

They entered the bedroom together. Carry's eye instantly cau