“I know you too well to believe you, Elfie. Although you say these shocking things, and seem to take pleasure in seeing how they really _do_ shock me, yet I am sure that at this moment you would give the world, if it was yours, to have your dear father back again, if you could have him consistently with his duty. As for poor Ethel, however, I really do believe that you are glad _he_ is gone,” said Erminie, gravely. “You better _had_ believe it. Ethel was a horrid bother, and I am delighted to be rid of him. Oh, Minie, it is a great blessing that there is not a man left in the house to worry us! What a good old time we shall have all to ourselves! We needn’t trouble our heads now about puddings and soups and salads and things! When we are hungry we can eat a bit of bread and butter, with some nice jam spread over it, and have a cup of tea. And we can sail about the house all day long in our wrappers and slippers, without feeling like blockade runners in imminent danger of meeting the enemy.” Erminie’s thoughts had wandered to Britomarte, so she let her wild companion rattle on unheeded and almost unheard. She reflected that Britomarte had spoken of calling to see her in the course of this day. Now the day was nearly over, and Miss Conyers had not come. “And I tell you what, Erminie, this is freedom. No more addling our brains over incessant changes of dishes to suit their exacting appetites. Lor, Erminie, if it were not for the men, _we_ would never trouble our heads with the study of a new omelette, or a new sauce or gravy, would we? But those gormandizing animals, you know, they think of nothing on earth all day long but their blessed stomachs, unless it is their bothering shirt buttons! I really do believe we women were the original creations, and men were afterwards inflicted on us in punishment of our sins. They _are_ such torments, Minie. And now they are all gone we shall have a glorious old time! And I’m going to begin mine by——” Here a sharp, loud, impatient ringing of the door bell put a sudden stop to the conversation. “That’s Britomarte, now,” exclaimed Erminie, starting up. “No, it isn’t. It’s not her ring,” cried Elfie. Then both paused and listened while Old Bob opened the door. A minute passed, and then the library door was opened by the old man, who announced: “Madame Vittorio Corsoni!” And to the unbounded astonishment of the two girls, she who was once Alberta Goldsborough entered the room. “Oh, Alberta! Alberta! I am so glad to see you, love!” exclaimed Erminie, forgetting the guerrilla’s wife, and impulsively springing up to meet with an overflowing welcome her beloved old schoolmate. Elfie never budged. “Glad—glad to see me whom you Unionists term a rebel? In truth, I had not expected this, Erminie,” said the visitor, pushing farther off her face the long rusty black veil that had nearly concealed it. Erminie’s countenance changed, her frame trembled, and her tones vibrated with emotion, as she replied: