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"'That by and by will make the music mute,'" ended Patricia dismally. "Oh, I hope not, Norn. I hope it'll all turn out well and we can go on pleasantly and peaceably for the rest of the term. I hate rows and suspicions. I'd like to live 'in charity and love to all men,' but I'm always getting into scrapes. I no sooner learn to like a person than they turn out to be fakes.",

"I am certain of it. Etwald prophesied to my poor lad, in his charlatan way, that if he wed Miss Dallas, or even announced his engagement with her, his fate would be of life in death.",

David burst into a laugh. "Blest if I didn't forget all about Tommy," he cried, turning to search the platform with eager eyes. "He's here somewhere, but he's a shy youth and I guess he was afraid you'd want to kiss him, too, Judy. Oh, there he is. Hullo, Tommy! Step lively, please!",

Then her breath caught in her throat and her heart gave a sudden flop, for, as Elinor raised her left hand there was a flash and glitter of gems—a new splendid circle of diamonds scintillated on Elinor's third finger.

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"I learned the fact from Dido, who advised me of all which went on in the Dallas household, as you may guess. Well, I saw David in his place of concealment and guessed his reason for coming. Maurice appeared at the rendezvous, and shortly afterward Isabella, under the hypnotic influence, came down the avenue. In her hand she held the devil-stick, and came swiftly toward Maurice. He, not understanding the deadly weapon with which she was armed, came to meet her with outstretched arms. She thrust the devil-stick before her, and wounded him in the palm of the hand. With a cry he fell--dead!",

Jen rose to his feet and stretched out one hand toward Arkel.,

"Haven't we had a gorgeous time?" she said, thoughtfully. "I didn't realize that we could enjoy ourselves so much for such a long time. It's been a whole month now, and getting nicer every day. We've been always so pinched that it seems almost wicked to be so careless about spending money, doesn't it, Norn?",

So I hurried and stuffed the grey-blue darling in the top tray, lapped the old black silk around my waist and belted it in with a black belt off a new green linen I had bought for morning walks—down to the butcher's in the High Street, I suppose. That is about the only morning dissipation in Hillsboro that I can think of, and it all depends on whom you meet, how much of a dissipation it is.