should not “come back in a hurry.” Susie was very silent. He had not cared, then, to wait until his child was born—not even cared really whether she or it, or both, lived or died. The next moment there came a new feeling, and this was shame that she had loved so coarse a being. To be sure, she had expressed the same thing to Dan in returning his money; but this was partly real and partly the effect of exaltation of mood. This time, the feeling was the result of pure reason, and it was permanent. If letters are Love’s barometer, as Dr. Forest once expressed it, Clara must have been well satisfied with the fervency and sincerity of her lover’s devotion, for he wrote continually. The letters were delivered at eight o’clock in the morning—the hour when the doctor’s family were always at breakfast—and though the postman’s ring was a very common occurrence during this family reunion, it had never been so constant before. Leila and Linnie, on sitting down to the table, used to amuse themselves speculating whether it would occur before the hominy was served all around, or during the second cup of coffee. When the ring came, and Dinah marched through the dining-room to open the door, it was a perennial joke with Leila to pass the honey or the sugar-bowl to Clara, and when she good-naturedly refused them, apologizing for their deficiency in sweetness. As Clara could not be teazed in the least, so long as nothing disrespectful was said of her idol, it was wonderful that the sisters could find so much pleasure in an endless repetition of a childish pleasantry. On one of these occasions, when Dinah brought in the regulation letter to Clara, Leila said: “Papa, do you know how Dr. Delano commences all his letters to Clara?” Clara looked a little annoyed as she put her precious missive in her pocket for future delectation. Could it be possible that her privacy had been invaded by her saucy sisters? “Why, yes,” the doctor answered, humoring Leila. “I think I could guess; that is, if it were any of my business.” “Well, guess then,” said Leila, nothing daunted by the implied rebuke; but seeing he did not try, she declared boldly that they all commenced, “Essence of Violet and Consummate Sweetness.” This time there was a general laugh, and Leila was satisfied over the success of a joke that had been concocted hours before. On another occasion when the letter came, Leila expressed the pious hope that Mr. Delano’s case was in the hands of some physician less distracted and harassed for time than Dr. Delano must be. “I’m sure his literary labors must weigh heavily upon him, though perhaps he employs a stenographic amanuensis.” One day, when the letter was brought in as usual, Clara said, “Why, this is not for me!” “What!” exclaimed Leila, “you don’t mean to say it isn’t from _consummate sweetness_, do you?”