“MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines. Come along, you mad jade. ‘Very well, never mind. ’ ‘Marry you!’ He shot off the desk, such horror in his face that Melusine felt a little irritated. ” “I was late. This forthright dame was so excited, she could not keep still, but paced about the parlour much as Melusine had done earlier. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. "Will he live?" asked Ruth. ” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes. “I have my methods.
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