"Only a safe," said Mr. BENTHAM, with inexplicable bitterness of tone. "Merely our fire-and-burglar-proof receptacle for the money constantly pouring in from first-class American Comic journalism."--Here Mr. BENTHAM slapped his forehead passionately, checked something like a sob in his throat, and abruptly returned to the main office. Scarcely, however, had he closed the door of communication behind him, when another door, opening from the hall, was noiselessly unlatched, and MAGNOLIA PENDRAGON glided into the arms of her friend. "FLORA!" murmured the Southern girl, "I can scarcely credit my eyes! It seems so long since we last met! You've been getting a new bonnet, I see." "It's like an absurd dream!" responded the Flowerpot, wonderingly caressing her. "I've thought of you and your poor, ridiculous brother twenty times a day. How much you must have gone through here! Are they wearing skirts full, or scant, this season?" "About medium, dear. But how do you happen to be here, in Mr. BENTHAM'S office?" In answer to this question, FLORA related all that bad happened at Bumsteadville and since her flight from thence; concluding by warning MAGNOLIA, that her possession of a black alpaca waist, slightly worn, had subjected her to the ominous suspicion of the Ritualistic organist. "I scorn and defy the suspicions of that enemy of the persecuted South, and high-handed wooer of exclusively Northern women!" exclaimed Miss PENDRAGON, vehemently. "Is this Mr. BENTHAM married?" "I suppose not." "Is he visiting any one?" "I shouldn't think so, dear." "Then," added MAGNOLIA, thoughtfully, "if dear Mr. DIBBLE approves, he might be a friend to MONTGOMERY and myself; and, by being so near us, protect us both from Mr. BUMSTEAD. Just think, dear FLORA, what heaps of sorrow I should endure, if that base man's suspicion about my alpaca waist should be only a pretence, to frighten me into ultimately receiving his addresses." "I don't think there's any danger, love," said Miss POTTS, rather sharply. "Why, FLORA precious?" "Oh, because he's so absurdly fastidious, you know, about regularity of features in women." "More than he is about brains, I should think, dear, from what you tell me of his making love to you." Here both young ladies trembled very much, and said they never, never would have believed it of each other; and were only reconciled when FLORA sobbed that she was a poor unmarried orphan, and Miss PENDRAGON moaned piteously that an unwedded Southern girl without money had better go away somewhere in the desert, with her crushed brother, and die at once for their down-trodden section. Then, indeed, they embraced tearfully; and, in proof of the perfect restoration of their devoted friendship, agreed never to marry if they could avoid it, and told each other the prices of all their best clothes.