“Swallowed! swallowed!” shrieked Mrs. Waugh, rushing toward Jacquelina, and seizing one of her arms, and gazing in her face, thinking only of poisons and of Jacko’s frequent threats of suicide.  “Swallowed! swallowed!  Where did she get it?  Who procured it for her?  What was it?  Oh, run for the doctor, somebody.  What are you all standing like you were thunderstruck for?  Dr. Grimshaw, start a boy on horseback immediately for a physician.  Tell him to tell the doctor to bring a stomach pump with him.  You had better go yourself.  Oh, hasten; not a single moment is to be lost.  Jacquelina, my dear, do you begin to feel sick?  Do you feel a burning in your throat and stomach?  Oh, my dear child! how came you to do such a rash act?”

Jacko broke into a loud laugh.

“Oh! crazy! crazy! it is something that affects her brain she has taken.  Oh!  Dr. Grimshaw, how can you have the heart to stand there and not go?  Probably opium.”

Jacko laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks—­never, since her marriage, had Jacko laughed so much.

“Oh, Dr. Grimshaw!  Don’t you see she is getting worse and worse.  How can you have the heart to stand there and not go for a physician?” said Mrs. Waugh, while Mary L’Oiseau looked on, mute with terror, and the commodore stood with his fat eyes protruding nearly to bursting.

“Go, oh, go, Dr. Grimshaw!” insisted Mrs. Waugh.

“I assure you it is not necessary, madam,” said the professor, with stern scorn.

“There is no danger, aunty.  I haven’t taken any poison since I took a dose of Grim before the altar!” said Jacko, through her tears and laughter.

“What have you taken, then, unfortunate child?”

“I have swallowed an assignation,” said the elf, as grave as a judge.

“A what?” exclaimed all, in a breath,

“An assignation,” repeated Jacko, with owl-like calmness and solemnity.

“What in the name of common sense do you mean, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Waugh, while the commodore and Mary L’Oiseau looked the astonishment they did not speak.  “Pray explain yourself, my love.”

“He—­says—­I—­swallowed—­an—­assignation—­whole!” repeated Jacquelina, with distinct emphasis.  Her auditors looked from one to another in perplexity.

“I see that I shall have to explain the disagreeable affair,” said the professor, coming forward, and addressing himself to the commodore.  “Mr. Thurston Willcoxen was here this afternoon on a visit to your niece, sir.  In taking leave he slipped into her hand a small note, which, when I demanded, she refused to let me see.”

“And very properly, too.  What right had you to make such a ‘demand?’” said Mrs. Waugh, indignantly.

“I was not addressing my remarks to you, madam,” retorted the professor.

“That will not keep me from making a running commentary upon them, however,” responded the lady.

“Hold your tongue, Henrietta.  Go on, Nace.  I swear you are enough to drive a peaceable man mad between you,” said the commodore, bringing his stick down emphatically.  “Well what next?”