an he could not discuss medical
science with Miss Meeke as he might with a matronly lady. And so there
wasn't much to talk about," said Wynnette.

"Oh, don't you remember, he said that Col. Anglesea had gone?" inquired
Elva.

"Gone!" echoed Le and Mrs. Force, in one voice.

"Oh, yes!" replied Wynnette. "The horrid beat has made tracks--vamoosed
the ranche--absquatulated--that is to say, Col Anglesea, H.E.I.C.S., and
all the rest of it, has taken his final departure."

"Thank Heaven!" earnestly breathed Mrs. Force. "But is it certain,
Wynnette?" she almost immediately inquired.

"I think so. Dr. Ingle met him, in traveling dress, at the railway
station, when he took a through ticket to Washington, and said that he was
en route for New York, and meant to sail on the _Scotia_ for Liverpool
next Saturday. His trumpery was to be sent after him by to-night's
express."

"Thank Heaven!" again fervently breathed Elfrida Force.

"What's all that you're talking about over there?" inquired the lady from
the mines, rising from her seat on the sofa and unceremoniously joining
the group around her hostess. "What's up now? I heard the name of my fine
scamp mentioned just now! Has anything happened to him? Has he broken his
neck, eh?"

"Oh, no!" sighed Wynnette, in a tone of regret; "he has not broken his
neck. Fate reserves that for the hangman to do! He has only left the
neighborhood to return to England. But let us hope that the ship may be
lost! I'm sure his presence on board will be enough to raise the demon and
sink the ship!"

"Oh, Wynnette! Don't say such dreadfully wicked things! You don't mean
them at all, you know you don't! Consider how many good people would be
drowned if the ship should sink! And how many people would grieve all
their lives after them!" said little Elva.

"Well, I'll take that back again! I know I do talk too much with my
mouth--I mean speak without mature consideration," said Wynnette.

"So my scamp has gone back to England, has he? I wonder if he will try to
marry a dook's darter? Or a markiss' widder? He's got cheek enough for
anything! I declare, I ought to follow him up, to keep him out of
mischief! I mean, of course, out of doing other folks mischief! I don't
care a snap of my finger how much mischief he does himself! The more, the
better, sez I! But I ought to go for him to prevent him from preying upon
other people! And I would, too, if I had money enough! 'Pon my word, I'm a
great mi