. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. He drew an awed breath. . “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. This is a tale of two young fools. Charming girl. So now I will say nothing more to you, and you will please to say nothing more to me, for I do not reply. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. At least for one moment, it was. Fire; she was full of it.
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