delusion you spoke
of--and I applaud your good sense in refusing to trust him with the
medicine."

Madame Fontaine made a low curtsey. "I shall remember those kind words,
among the happy events of my life," she said, with her best grace.
"Permit me to take your hand." She pressed Mrs. Wagner's hand
gratefully--and made an exit which was a triumph of art. Even a French
actress might have envied the manner in which she left the room.

But, when she ascended the stairs, with no further necessity for keeping
up appearances, her step was as slow and as weary as the step of an old
woman. "Oh, my child," she thought sadly, with her mind dwelling again on
Minna, "shall I see the end of all these sacrifices, when your
wedding-day comes with the end of the year?" She sat down by the fire in
her room, and for the first time in her life, the harmless existence of
one of those domestic drudges whom she despised began to seem enviable to
her. There were merits visible now, in the narrow social horizon that is
bounded by gossip, knitting, and tea.

Left by herself in the dining-room, Mrs. Wagner took a turn up and down,
with her mind bent on penetrating Madame Fontaine's motives.

There were difficulties in her way. It was easy to arrive at the
conclusion that there was something under the surface; but the obstacles
to advancing beyond this point of discovery seemed to defy removal. To
distrust the graceful widow more resolutely than ever, and to lament that
she had not got wise David Glenney to consult with, were the principal
results of Mrs. Wagner's reflections when she returned to the office.

There was Jack--in the nursery phrase, as good as gold--still in his
place on the window seat, devoted to his keys. His first words related
entirely to himself.

"If this isn't good conduct," he said, "I should like to know what is.
Give me my other mark."

Mrs. Wagner took out her pocket-book and made the new mark.

"Thank you," said Jack. "Now I want something else. I want to know what
Mrs. Housekeeper has been saying. I have been seriously alarmed about
you."

"Why, Jack?"

"She hasn't bitten you, has she? Oh, they do it sometimes! What lies has
she been telling you of me? Oh, they lie in the most abominable manner!
What? She has been talking of me in the kindest terms? Then why did she
want to get out of my hearing? Ah, they're so infernally deceitful! I do
hate mad people."

Mrs. Wagner produced her pocket-book again. "I