" There was a pause. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. Ah! what's that?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ” “Oh, okay. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters.
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