e
young navy officers must go to sea, and that if they all were as steady as
Le the long voyage must do them good, improve their minds, and strengthen
their bodies; and that they had much to be thankful for, since sickness
and death had kept away from their homes.

Mrs. Force and Odalite were a little more silent than usual, and that was
all the difference to be seen in them.

Wynnette went singing about the house, to pretend that she was merry. But,
while gazing from the parlor window out upon the dark sky full of soft,
fine, warm rain that turned the lawn into a marsh, and hid the wooded
hills on the west and the bay on the east from view, she suddenly snapped
out:

"Euphonious Mondreer should be relegated to its original, descriptive
name, and be called Mount Dreary, as it is in the old patents and deeds!"

"But was it Mount Dreary last week, when we had the glorious sunshine, and
the splendid frost and snow, and the waters of the bay as blue as the sky
they reflected, eh?" inquired Miss Meeke, deprecatingly.

"I don't know!" said Wynnette, perversely. "I don't remember any glorious
sunshine, or splendid frost and snow, or any blue waters. It has always
been rain, and mud, and darkness in this world ever since I was born! And
I don't remember anything else, and I don't believe in anything
else--there, now!"

"My dear! my dear! do not talk so!" said Miss Meeke.

"I can't help it," said Wynnette. "I know it always has been just this
way, and it always will be. But who cares if it will? Not I, for one.

"'Hi diddle diddle! The cat and the fiddle!'"

sang Wynnette, dancing away from the dreary window and dancing out of the
room.

As for little Elva, she went moping about the house, with red eyes,
sniveling in the most undisguised manner.

Miss Meeke was gravely busy with her wedding preparations.

Mrs. Anglesea was the jolliest person in the house, sympathetically
interested in everybody's feelings and occupations.

Occasionally, when there was a solemn pause in the conversation around the
fire or around the board, the happy creature would take the whole company
to task for their gloom.

"Call this a parting, do you? Why, the young fellow hasn't gone out of
reach of civilization--newspapers and mail bags and telegraph wires. Wait
until he goes on a wild-goose chase after the North Pole, where you can't
hear from him for months or years, even if you ever hear from him again,
for his chances