It is true that Mrs. Waugh was not present, that good woman being in the back parlor, sitting at one end of the sofa and making a pillow of her lap for the commodore’s head, which she combed soporifically, while, stretched at full length, he took his afternoon nap.  But Mary L’Oiseau was there, quietly knotting a toilet cover, and Professor Grimshaw was there, scowling behind a book that he was pretending to read, and losing no word or look or tone or gesture of Thurston or Jacquelina, who talked and laughed and flirted and jested, as if there was no one else in the world but themselves.

At last a little negro appeared at the door to summon Mrs. L’Oiseau to give out supper, and Mary arose and left the room.

The professor scowled at Jacquelina from the top of his book for a little while, and then, muttering an excuse, got up and went out and left them alone together.

That was a very common trick of the doctor’s lately, and no one could imagine why he did it.

“It is a ruse, a trap, the grim idiot! to see what we will say to each other behind his back.  Oh, I’d dose him!  I just wish Thurston would kiss me!  I do so!” thought Jacquelina.  “Thurston,” and the elf leaned toward her companion, and began to be as bewitching as she knew how.

But Thurston was not thinking of Jacquelina’s mischief, though without intending it he played directly into her hands.

Rising he took his hat, and saying that his witching little cousin had beguiled him into breaking one engagement already, advanced to take leave of her.

“Jacquelina.” he said, lowering his voice, and slipping the note for Marian into her hand, “may I ask you to deliver this to Miss Mayfield, when no one is by?”

A look of surprise and perplexity, followed by a nod of intelligence, was her answer.

And Thurston, with a grateful smile, raised her hand to his lips, took leave and departed.

“I wonder what it is all about?  I could easily untwist and seal it, but I would not do so for a kingdom!” said Jacko to herself as she turned the tiny note about in her fingers.

“Hand me that note, madam!” said Dr. Grimshaw, in curt and husky tones, as, with stern brow, he stood before her.

“No, sir! it was not intended for you,” she said, mockingly.

“By the demons, I know that!  Hand it here!”

“Don’t swear nor get angry!  Both are unbecoming professor!” said the elf, with mocking gravity.

“Perdition! will you give it up?” stamped the doctor, in fury.

“‘Perdition,’ no;” mocked the fairy.

“Hand it here, I command you, madam!” cried the professor, trying to compose himself and recover his dignity.

“Command away—­I like to hear you.  Command a regiment, if you like!” said the elf.

“Give it up!” thundered the professor, losing his slight hold upon self-control.

“Couldn’t do it, sir,” said Jacko, gravely.