“That reminds me.” And giving a quick glance at Charley, as she passed him, she marched with a rapid, business-like tread, straight up to the Don. Charley prepared to weep. I must mention, in passing, that his way of weeping over Alice differed from her mother’s in this, that when the tears stood in his eyes, those windows of the soul were wide open, thereby revealing the fact that his ribs ached; whereas Mrs. Carter’s being shut tight, it was left entirely to conjecture whether she wept from pain or pleasure. Alice planted her little self square in front of the towering figure of the Don, and looked him in the eyes as though expecting him to begin the conversation. “What now, sauce-box?” asked Mrs. Carter, quickly, as though she felt that if she delayed a moment longer she would become, as usual, speechless; and a premonitory shake or two passing through her jolly figure showed that her prudence was not ill-judged. “What are you up to now?” “Well?” said Alice, with her eyes fixed on those of the Don. Charley dried his with his handkerchief, for he wanted to see everything. The Don (I regret to have to use the expression) was in a broad grin. As to Mrs. Carter, the faintest thread of hazel was still visible between the lids of her fast-closing orbs of light. Alice turned pettishly on her heel, and with her eyes retorted over her shoulder, twirled her thumbs. It was evident that there was something amiss about Charley’s ribs. Not so with Mrs. Carter; for to any one surveying her person, ribs remained the merest hypothesis, based upon the analogy of other vertebrates; but the upper part of her spinal column gave way; that is, she lost control of her neck, and her head rested helplessly against the back of her chair. “Well?” “What an ornament is lost to the stage!” laughed the Don. “The stage! Are we not enacting a real life-drama? and” (looking down) “to me a very serious one? And I have been looking for the _denouement_ so long—_so_ long!” “That only comes at the end of the play!” “And did you not hear what Jennie said just now? Another short week only is left! The end of the play has come. There is but time to come before the footlights and say our last say!” She paused. “Hast thou naught to say to me?” resumed she, with averted eyes, and in a stage-whisper. “Naught to say to thee?” replied he, falling into her vein. “Can’st believe thy slave so flinty-hearted?”