"Look whar dey be and ye'll find 'em," replied Clo.
"Ef they hain't gone down dat ol' preacher's throat it's lucky," cried Vic, slamming the door after her, thus defeating poor Dolf in the very moment of success.
CHAPTER LXXI.
FUTILE PLEADINGS.
Elsie was better that morning. When the physician arrived he pronounced her much improved, and confessed to Mellen that he had at first feared an attack upon the brain, but he believed now it was only the result of a severe nervous paroxysm. This time he made no inquiries of Mellen concerning his wife; the manner in which they had been received on the previous day did not invite a renewal of the subject.
Elsie was eager to get up, after her usual habit, the moment she began to feel better; but the doctor ordered her to lie in bed, at least for that day.
"But I want to get up so badly," said she, when her brother returned to the chamber; "I am so tired of lying here."
"Just have patience for to-day; the doctor would not allow the least exertion."
"He's a cross old thing!" pouted Elsie, with a faint return to her old manner, which made Mellen both sigh and smile.