“Admirable. So, next Thursday you will be my darling wife.”
“And you will be my sweet, splendid husband.”
“Pandora!”
“Henry!”
Another fall of the curtain appears to be necessary just here. We will ring it down. If it could have been raised again a glimpse might have been caught of a pretty room in which sat a lovely and smiling woman by the side of a table, sewing. Close to her sat a handsome young soldier, with one leg upon the floor. His other leg bobbed about in a huge jar that rested in a corner. Pandora M’Duffy had been transformed into Mrs. Major Henry G. Dunwoody, and she was happy.
“JINNIE.”
A STORY OF A CHILD.
“Jinnie! Vir-r-rginia-a-a! You ‘Jin’! If you’re not here in a minute, I’ll whip you within an inch of your life!”
It was the shrill voice of Mrs. Tyke. Down from some mysterious part of the recesses of the house it came with the force and precision of a rifle-ball, through the narrow hall and open door to the ears of Jinnie, who was scrubbing the front steps.