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"Would I not tell my dream, as nice young men in the Bible always did?"

almost pleasing. "Good-bye, Smith, remember your failings."

"Do you want to see him?" I gathered my horse.

"Richard Thorndyke Smith! My dear boy," she cried, while the nieces gasped at each other with gestures and looks all the way between Terpsichore and Melpomene, and then the four cried in chorus, "We know your mother!"

"Why, what does all this mean?" asked Miss Harper amid her nieces' cries.

"Hi! there goes one of them!--Halt!--Halt, you blue--" pop!--pop!--pop!

"Oh, no, not too warm."

"Oh! that-a-way."

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