“How’d the Spartan boy do?” asked Mr. Newt.

“He covered it up, laughed, and dropped dead.”

“Gracious!” said Mr. Boniface Newt.

“Or like Boccaccio’s basil-pot,” continued Abel, calmly; pouring forth smoke, while his befogged papa inquired,

“What on earth do you mean by Boccaccio’s basil-pot?”

“Why, a girl’s lover had his head cut off, and she put it in a flower-pot, and covered it up that way, and instead of laughing herself, set flowers to blooming over it.”

“Goodness me, Abel, what are you talking about?”

“Of Love, the canker-worm, Sir,” replied Abel, imperturbable, and emitting smoke.

It was evidently not the busy season in the Dry-goods Commission House of
Boniface Newt & Son.

When Mr. Van Boozenberg went home to dinner, he said: 

“Ma, you’d better improve this werry pleasant weather and start for Saratogy as soon as you can.  Mr. Boniface Newt tells me his wife and family is there, and you’ll find them werry pleasant folks.  I jes’ want you to write me all about ’em.  You see, ma, one of our directors to-day sez to me, after board, sez he, ’The Boniface Newts is a going it slap-dash up to Saratogy.’  I laughed, and sez I, ’Why shouldn’t they? but I don’t believe they be,’ sez I. Sez he, ’I’ll bet you a new shawl for your wife they be,’ sez he.  Sez I, ‘Done.’  So you see ma, if so be they be, werry well.  A new shawl for some folks, you know; only jes’ write me all about it.”

Ma was not reluctant to depart at the earliest possible moment.  Her son Corlaer, whose education had been intercepted by his father, was of opinion, when he heard that the Newts were at Saratoga, that his health imperatively required Congress water.  But papa had other views.

“Corlaer, I wish you would make the acquaintance of young Mr. Newt.  I done it to-day.  He is a well-edicated young man; I shall ask him to dinner next Sunday.  Don’t be out of the way.”

Jacob Van Boozenberg having dined, arose from the table, seated himself in a spacious easy-chair, and drawing forth the enormous red bandana, spread it over his head and face, and after a few muscular twitches, and a violent nodding of the head, which caused the drapery to fall off several times, finally propped the refractory head against the back of the chair, and bobbing and twitching no longer, dropped off into temporary oblivion.

CHAPTER XXIV.

“QUEEN AND HUNTRESS.”

Hope Wayne leaned out of the window from which she had just scattered the fragments of the drawing Arthur Merlin had given her.  The night was soft and calm, and trees, not far away, entirely veiled her from observation.