By-bye, Mrs.
Parmalee that is to be.

Take care of yourself until to-night." The gentleman walked down the stair-way alone toward a side entrance.
The lady stood on the landing above, looking after him with a bitter, sneering smile.
"Mrs.Parmalee, indeed! You blind, conceited fool! Twist you round my little finger, can I?
Yes, you great, hulking simpleton, and ten times better men! Let me worm your secret out of you--let me squeeze my sponge dry, and then see how I'll fling you into your native gutter!" Mr.Parmalee, on his way out, stopped at the pretty rustic lodge and bathed his swollen and discolored visage.

The lodge-keeper's wife was all sympathy and questions.

How on earth did it happen?
"Run up against the 'lectric telegraph, ma'am," replied Mr.Parmalee, sulkily; "and there was a message coming full speed, and it knocked me over.

Morning.