"She does not. She says 'Olotutu' won't wash stains."
"Well, I suppose you will be bringing her up," said the President.
"I will—in the way she should go;" answered Wee Winnie. "To-day is Saturday; I will bring her on Monday. Meantime as it is getting very late, and as I have finished my lemonade, I will bid you good afternoon—have you used 'Olotutu?'" And with this facetious inquiry Miss Nimrod twirled her stick and was off.
An hour later Lillie received a wire from Wee Winnie.
"Olotutu. Wretches just reconciled. Letter follows."
And this was the letter that came by the first post on Monday.
"My poor President:
"We have lost Sybil. She takes in the Hurrygraph and reads the agony column religiously. So all the week she has been exposed to a terrible bombardment.
"As thus (Tuesday.) 'My lost darling. A thousand demons are knocking at my door. Say you forgive me or I will let them in.—Bobo.'
"Or thus. (Wednesday.) 'My lost darling. You are making a terrible mistake. I am innocent. I am writing this on my bended knees. The fathers have eaten a sour grape. Misericordia.—Bobo.'
"The bitter cry of the outcast lover increased daily in intensity, till on Saturday it became delirious.
"'My lost darling. Save, O Save! I have opened the door. They are there—in their thousands. The children's teeth are set on edge. The grave is dug. Betwixt two worlds I fall to the ground. Adieu forever.—Bobo.'
"Will you believe that the poor little fool thought all this was meant for her, and that in consequence she thawed day by day till on Saturday she melted entirely and gushed on Guy's shoulder? Guy admitted that he had inserted these advertisements, but he did not tell her (as he afterwards told me in confidence, and as I now tell you in confidence) that they had been sent in before the quarrel occurred and constituted his Agony Column romance for the week, the Popsy Wopsy romance not being intended for publication till next week. He had concocted these cries of despairing passion without the least idea they would so nearly cover his own case. But he says that as his hereditary craze got him into the scrape, it was only fair his hereditary craze should get him out of it.
"So that's the end of Sybil Hotspur. But let us not lament her too much. One so frail and fickle was not of the stuff of which Old Maids are made. Courage! Wee Winnie is on the warpath.
"Yours affectionately,
"Nelly."