Sneeze, my idol, farewell! I shall not be happy till I again fold you to my heart. Dari,"—turning suddenly to her husband, and speaking in an undertone,"—do you think Mary remembered to put in my curling-tongs and prayer-book? I can't go without them."
"The tongs are there; I saw her put them in," said her husband.
"Well, that's the most important; I suppose I can pray without my prayer-book, though I could not have curled my hair without my tongs. Good-by, my deserted love! farewell, my own little Sneeze!"
The laugh which followed Mrs. Harden's touching leave-taking of her skye was very irritating to one person who heard it. Not to the stevedores at work in the mammoth ship near by, surely, nor to the group of idlers who were watching the departure, but to a man standing behind a pile of cotton-bales, whose eyes were fixed on the face of the young girl about whose comfort Philip Rondelet was busying himself. The physician placed a stool beneath her feet and brought a cushion for her back; and at these very simple acts of courtesy the unreasonable being behind the cotton-bales ground his teeth, and, I regret to say, swore roundly, cursing the steamer, the footstool, the Rondelet plantation, and everybody on the boat, always
