ng to Dexter will end badly. Write him an excuse.
Valeria! I firmly believe you will repent it if you return to that
house."

Was ever a woman more plainly warned, more carefully advised, than I?
And yet warning and advice were both thrown away on me.

Let me say for myself that I was really touched by the kindness of my
mother-in-law's letter, though I was not shaken by it in the smallest
degree. As long as I lived, moved, and thought, my one purpose now was
to make Miserrimus Dexter confide to me his ideas on the subject of Mrs.
Eustace Macallan's death. To those ideas I looked as my guiding stars
along the dark way on which I was going. I wrote back to Mrs. Macallan,
as I really felt gratefully and penitently. And then I went out to the
chaise.

CHAPTER XXVII. MR. DEXTER AT HOME.

I FOUND all the idle boys in the neighborhood collected around the
pony-chaise, expressing, in the occult language of slang, their high
enjoyment and appreciation at the appearance of "Ariel" in her man's
jacket and hat. The pony was fidgety--_he_ felt the influence of the
popular uproar. His driver sat, whip in hand, magnificently
impenetrable to the gibes and jests that were flying around her. I said
"Good-morning" on getting into the chaise. Ariel only said "Gee up!" and
started the pony.

I made up my mind to perform the journey to the distant northern suburb
in silence. It was evidently useless for me to attempt to speak, and
experience informed me that I need not expect to hear a word fall from
the lips of my companion. Experience, however, is not always infallible.
After driving for half an hour in stolid silence, Ariel astounded me by
suddenly bursting into speech.

"Do you know what we are coming to?" she asked, keeping her eyes
straight between the pony's ears.

"No," I answered. "I don't know the road. What are we coming to?"

"We are coming to a canal."

"Well?"

"Well, I have half a mind to upset you in the canal."

This formidable announcement appeared to require some explanation. I
took the liberty of asking for it.

"Why should you upset me?" I inquired.

"Because I hate you," was the cool and candid reply.

"What have I done to offend you?" I asked next.

"What do you want with the Master?" Ariel asked, in her turn.

"Do you mean Mr. Dexter?"

"Yes."

"I want to have some talk with Mr. Dexter."

"You don't! You want to take my place. You want to brush his hair and
oil his beard, instead of me.