“Pray, do not say that!” urged Cyn, too disturbed to bring her easy philosophy to bear on the situation. “Of all things, do not get morbid.”
“But it is the truth!” persisted Nattie. “Even my name, for instance, proves it! I was christened Nathalie, a very fine poetic name. But, in all my life no one ever called me by it! I was always mediocre Nattie!”
“And I have curtailed you down to Nat!” said Cyn, with whimsical remorse. “But what a tangle we are in! First it was the man of musk and bear’s grease, who came between you! Then, when he was explained away, came blundering I! Why did you not lock me out of sight somewhere? I would have done it myself had I known—” ironically—“what an extremely fascinating and dangerous person I was!”
At this Nattie could not help smiling.
“Is was not your fault; it was Fate!” she said, her smile becoming a sigh, that Cyn echoed, for she thought of Jo. But yet unconvinced, she said,
“Fate! No; it cannot be! I think better of Clem than to believe he, too, has made a mistake, like Quimby, and fallen in love with the wrong woman!” then starting up, she exclaimed, tragically, “Who? ah! who shall cut the Gordian knot and bring about a crisis that shall cause this ‘wired love’ to terminate in ‘O. K.’?”
As if invoked by Cyn’s words, there came a sneeze from outside, and Miss Kling pushed open the door unceremoniously.
“I wish to have some conversation with you, Miss Rogers,” she said in a tone of severity.
“Some other time, if you please,” Nattie replied, impatiently, for her talk with Cyn had unnerved her; “just now I am engaged.”
Miss Kling drew herself up and said, with even more austerity,
“There is no time like the present, and since Miss Archer is here, it may not be amiss for her to hear what I have to say.”
Nattie frowned, but Cyn, not unwilling to be diverted even by Miss Kling from the topic that was so annoying her, said,
“Very well. We are listening, Miss Kling.”
“Miss Rogers,” proceeded Miss Kling solemnly, after a preparatory sneeze, “I know all.”
The emphasis on the last word was truly tremendous, and Nattie started astonished, while Cyn looked up with awakened curiosity.
“May I inquire what you mean by all?” inquired Nattie stiffly.
“Yes,” repeated Miss Kling, without heeding the question. “I know all. I have for some time suspected that something underhanded was going on. Now I know what it is that has been so carefully concealed from me! I have long objected to your associates, Miss Rogers, but—”
“Pardon me, but that certainly does not concern you!” interrupted Cyn disdainfully.
Miss Kling looked at her and sneezed a sinister sneeze.
“It concerns me to know what kind of people I have in my house!” she replied, “and since you force me to speak out, Miss Archer, I will say that in my opinion no truly modest and proper girl would become intimate with those who pad their legs and paint their faces, and show themselves to the public”—this insinuation struck Cyn so comically that she could hardly suppress a laugh. “My suspicions, to return to what I was about to say, Miss Rogers, were first awakened by hearing that—that instrument”—Cyn and Nattie exchanged looks of intelligence—“you have here going, when I knew you were not in the room. And now, as I said, I know all! I pass over the audacity of such proceedings on my premises, but their utter immorality is too much for me to bear! Yes! I found a wire, and know where it leads! Into the room of two young men! That any young woman should so immodest as to establish telegraphic communication between her bedroom and the bedroom of two young men is beyond my comprehension!”
Cyn felt a mischievous desire to inquire how it would have struck her, had it been the bedroom of one young man? Nattie, who had flushed crimson at the first knowledge of Miss Kling’s discovery, now drew herself up and replied with dignity,
“Really, Miss Kling, I think this extravagance of language utterly uncalled for! I admit it was not exactly correct for me to allow the wire to be run without consulting you, but beyond that, there was nothing reprehensible in my conduct.”
Miss Kling held up her hands in horror.
“Nothing reprehensible in being connected by a telegraph wire with two young men!” she exclaimed. “Nothing—”
“Excuse my intrusion; but, Cyn, will you please inform me if I am to stand all night loaded with green stuff, like a farmer on a market day?” at this point the merry voice of Clem interrupted, as he came hastily in, still bearing the burden Cyn had piled upon him. Then becoming aware of Miss Kling’s presence, he added to her, “I beg pardon for my abrupt entrance, but the outer door being open, I made bold to enter;” then explanatory to Cyn, “Your door was locked, as also was mine, of which Quimby has the key; and as Celeste has not yet been able to part with him, there I have been standing in the hall, like patience with a load of dandelions!”
“We were having such an interesting conversation,” Cyn answered, with a scornful glance in Miss Kling’s direction, “that I quite forgot you and the lapse of time.”
Clem instantly became aware of something amiss in the atmosphere, and glanced around inquiringly. Miss Kling immediately enlightened him.
“There are many things you make bold to do, young man!” she said. “Putting telegraph apparatus in my house, for instance!”
“Ah!” exclaimed Clem, comprehensively.
“Yes;” went on the aggrieved Miss Kling, “you and that Quimby, I suppose, did it. The idea originated with you, of course. He hasn’t brains enough; if he had he would not marry
