Barbara rushed to the relief of the besieged in his office redoubt.
"It's all over!" she shouted at him joyously.
Mr. Waddington did not answer all at once. He was still sitting in his uneasy Windsor chair, absorbed in meditation. He had brought out a little note from his inmost pocket and as he looked at it he smiled.
It began thus, and its date was the Saturday following that dreadful
Wednesday:
"MY DEAR MR. WADDINGTON:
"After the way you have stood by me and helped me in the past, I cannot believe that it is all over, and that I can come to you, my generous friend, and be repulsed—"
He looked up. "How did she behave, Barbara?" "Oh—she wanted to bite—to bite badly; but I drew all her teeth, very gently, one by one." Teeth. Elise's teeth—drawn by Barbara.
He tore the note into little bits, and, as he watched them flutter into the waste-paper basket, he sighed. He rose heavily.
"Let's go and tell Fanny all about it," said Barbara.