ood talking in the hall with the domestic who had admitted
her. Much good her hurry had done! Much good was it for her to fly
hither and yon, transacting business for _invalids_! Some persons run
away from happiness--do they not?--as others try to escape from known
misery! Richard Crawford and his companions were then two hours up the
Hudson, on their way to Niagara! Crawford was going to pass West Falls,
within a few hours, so near it and yet ignorant of all that had
occurred!

To say that Joe Harris raved at this announcement, might be too strong a
word. But it is not too much to say that her springy foot (Joe had not
the proverbially "little" one of the novelists, but a very well-shaped
pedal of the Arab pattern, under the sole of which water could have run
with as much freedom as under the Starucca Viaduct or the High Bridge),
patted the hall floor with vexation, impatience and "botheration." There
was not much use in blurting out her vexation before a servant, but she
did say:

"Confound your picture, Dick Crawford! Why did you not let me know that
you were going away?" Which was not very elegant or very reasonable,
especially as wild Josey had for certain well-known reasons studiously
kept away from the house for some days before leaving for the North, and
still more especially because she had so concealed the direction of her
own journey that Dick Crawford could not have communicated with her if
he had tried never so earnestly.

Then and thereupon Joe Harris turned about indignantly and went to the
door. Then she changed her mind, went into the deserted parlor, opened
the piano and banged away upon it for a few minutes as if she was taking
the physical revenge of a drubbing, on the whole Crawford family. If
Dick Crawford could have heard _that_ performance, he would have gone
mad to a certainty! Then she flung to the piano with a slam (forgive
her, Steinway!--it was not your piano that she was abusing, but an
imaginary owner) and flung herself out of the house so precipitately
that Bridget only heard the violent shutting of two doors and knew
nothing more.

By the time she had reached her own house again, the young girl was
somewhat calmer and a great deal more reasonable. The fault was not that
of Richard Crawford, after all; and God bless him!--she was heartily
glad that he had recovered sufficiently to be able to leave the house
for a ride of four or five hundred miles. So she summoned back all the
patien