(I do not altogether agree with Mr.Graham about hanging the caramel-maker, but I should heartily like to burn all his wares.

Fancy a great mountain of caramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glaces piled up in Union Square, for example, and blazing away merrily,--that is, if the things would burn, which is more than doubtful.

How the maidens would weep and wring their hands while the heartless parents chuckled and fed the flames with all the precious treasures of Maillard and Huyler! Ah! it is a pleasant thought, for I who write this am a heartless parent, do you see ?) As I said before, Hilda had no suspicion of the plot which her parents were concocting.

She knew that her father was obliged to go to San Francisco, being called suddenly to administer the estate of a cousin who had recently died there, and that her mother and--as she supposed--herself were going with him to offer sympathy and help to the widow, an invalid with three little children.

As to the idea of her being left behind; of her father's starting off on a long journey without his lieutenant-general; of her mother's parting from her only child, whom she had watched with tender care and anxiety since the day of her birth,--such a thought never came into Hilda's mind.