“Yes, it is Low; but really, in the great Sanscrit epic of the Bharatan war, King Yoodistheer is represented as refusing immortality, unless the god Indra will let him take his dawg to heaven along with him.”

“And left his wife behind, did he not?  He did not even hold her something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.”

“Ow, now, I think Draupadee died before him.  Still, it is a strange fact though that some people do love animals better than human beings.”

“D’ye ken why?” asked the Squire, with a glance at his niece.  “It’s because they’re no as exacting and fashious as beass.”

“Well, there’s a lesson for you, Fanny.  Good-night.  I must gow to my sermon and the hymns.”  So Mr. Perrowne departed, and the mourners returned to the house.

On Sunday it rained; nevertheless all went to their respective churches, except the Carruthers children, whom Tryphena kept in order, and the colonel, who sat with Wilkinson.  Both clergymen preached impressively with reference to the events of the past week, and, at the close of the services, they both repaired to Bridesdale for dinner.  In the afternoon they rode to their respective stations, but the Squire stayed at home to teach the children and read to them, while they devoured the contents of the lawyer’s elaborate boxes.  Tryphosa and Timotheus had to do their singing in the kitchen, in which they were joined by Tryphena and Maguffin.  The latter had a very soft rich voice, and made a great addition to the musical performance.  The colonel smoked an after dinner cigar, and Mr. Terry a pipe, on a dry part of the verandah.  The young ladies overhauled the entire collection of literature sent to Miss Carmichael and to Wilkinson, and read a good many things that were not for Sunday.  As to the three matrons, it is nobody’s business what they did with their afternoon.  Mr. Perrowne came back to his Fanny in the evening, and Mr. Errol, to have “a crack” with Mrs. Carmichael.  Monday was fair enough to permit of a game of golf between the parsons, with the colonel and the veteran for spectators.  Miss Halbert went home in the evening, and so, except for the wounded dominie upstairs and the colonel, things went on in the usual jog-trot way, for Miss Du Plessis had been at Bridesdale before.  Letters and papers came from Coristine to the bedridden dominie, and another package for Marjorie, before Saturday night, but none for anybody else, for the reason that Miss Du Plessis had written him simply at Wilkinson’s dictation, and Mrs. Carruthers and Miss Carmichael had not written at all.  In her round of household duties and the care of a young family, the former had forgotten all about her letter, and the latter did not know what to say for herself, and did not feel disposed to humiliate her sense of self-respect by reminding her aunt of her promise.  Another Sunday passed without other incident than Mr. Errol’s visit.  Mr. Perrowne spent most of his spare time at the Halbert’s.  But, Monday night’s post brought an official envelope, type-written, from the offices of Tylor, Woodruff and White for Miss M. Carmichael.  She opened it, with a feeling of irritation against somebody, and read the wretched type-writing:—­