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"There will be no need for him to do that," replied David, coldly. "I shall never marry Isabella." "Oh, do ask him, David," she urged, taking in the attractive athletic figure with its wholesome self-reliant air. "He looks awfully nice." "That? Oh, Carol Lawton wrote that for us before she left. She was a corker, I can tell you." A shade flitted over Griffin's face as she settled herself more firmly on the board. "She died last fall, and we've sung that song ever since. Ready now! Let her go!".

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"I'll choose the song," she announced, gayly. "I've heard a lot of howling already this evening." The major went at once to "The Wigwam," but, notwithstanding all his eloquence, in spite of the tears and implorings of Isabella, the negress positively declined to say a word against the Great Master. For the next two days Major Jen stayed in his house and watched over the corpse of David. It was laid out in what had been the young man's bedchamber, surrounded by burning candles, and with pale flowers of virginal whiteness scattered on the bed. The whole scene was but a repetition of that which had taken place when Maurice had died. Both young men had perished from the effects of the infernal African poison. Both had perished in the bloom of youth; and on the right hand of each was the fatal wound which had corrupted the blood. But the corpse of David was here. The corpse of Maurice, where? Only Dr. Etwald could answer the question, and he, released on the charge of murder, was now out on bail for the theft of the corpse. "It's the best ever," she declared. "I'll 'wagger,' as Hannah Ann says, that you lift the medal.".