seventeenth century, improved and perfected in this: a pyramid of sixteen circular hoops of light yet strong steel, attached to each other by cloth bands.
With a cry of joy Little seized them, climbed to the balloon, and fitted the elastic hoops over its conical end. Then he returned to the car.
"We are saved."
Lady Caroline, blushing, gathered her slim but antique drapery against the other end of the car.
CHAPTER X
They were slowly descending. Presently Lady Caroline distinguished the outlines of Raby Hall. "I think I will get out here," she said.
Little anchored the balloon and prepared to follow her.
"Not so, my friend," she said, with an arch smile. "We must not be seen together. People might talk. Farewell."
Little sprang again into the balloon and sped away to America. He came down in California, oddly enough in front of Hardin's door, at Dutch Flat. Hardin was just examining a specimen of ore.
"You are a scientist; can you tell me if that is worth anything?" he said, handing it to Little.
Little held it to the light. "It contains ninety per cent of silver."
Hardin embraced him. "Can I do anything for you, and why are you here?"
Little told his story. Hardin asked to see the rope. Then he examined it carefully.
"Ah, this was cut, not broken!"
"With a knife?" asked Little.
"No. Observe both sides are equally indented. It was done with a SCISSORS!"
"Just Heaven!" gasped Little. "Therese!"
CHAPTER XI
Little returned to London. Passing through London one day he met a dog-fancier. "Buy a nice poodle, sir?"
Something in the animal attracted his attention. "Fido!" he gasped.
The dog yelped.
Little bought him. On taking off his collar a piece of paper rustled to the floor. He knew the handwriting and kissed it. It ran:—
"TO THE HON. AUGUSTUS RABY—I cannot marry you. If I marry any one" (sly puss) "it will be the man who has twice saved my life,—Professor Little.
"CAROLINE COVENTRY."
And she did.
LOTHAW;
OR,
THE ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
BY MR. BENJAMINS
CHAPTER I
"I remember him a little boy," said the Duchess. "His mother was a dear friend of mine; you know she was one of my bridesmaids."
"And you have never seen him since, mamma?" asked the oldest married daughter, who did not look a day older than her mother.
"Never; he was an orphan shortly after. I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys."
This simple yet first-class conversation existed in the morning-room of Plusham, where the mistress of the palatial mansion sat involved in the sacred privacy of a circle of her married daughters. One dexterously applied golden knitting-needles to the fabrication of a purse of floss silk of the rarest texture, which none who knew the almost fabulous wealth of the Duke would believe was ever destined to hold in its silken meshes a less sum than L1,000,000; another adorned a slipper exclusively with seed pearls; a third emblazoned a page with rare pigments and the finest quality of gold leaf. Beautiful forms leaned over frames glowing with embroidery, and beautiful frames leaned over forms inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Others, more remote, occasionally burst into melody as they tried the passages of a new and exclusive air given to them in MS. by some titled and devoted friend, for the private use of the aristocracy alone, and absolutely prohibited for publication.
The Duchess, herself the superlative of beauty, wealth, and position, was married to the highest noble in the Three Kingdoms. Those who talked about such matters said that their progeny were exactly like their parents,—a peculiarity of the aristocratic and wealthy. They all looked like brothers and sisters, except their parents, who, such was their purity of blood, the perfection of their manners, and the opulence of their condition, might have been taken for their own children's elder son and daughter. The daughters, with one exception, were all married to the highest nobles in the land. That exception was the Lady Coriander, who, there being no vacancy above a marquis and a rental of L1,000,000, waited. Gathered around the refined and sacred circle of their breakfast-table, with their glittering coronets, which, in filial respect to their father's Tory instincts and their mother's Ritualistic tastes, they always wore on their regal brows, the effect was dazzling as it was refined. It was this peculiarity and their strong family resemblance which led their brother-in-law, the good-humored St. Addlegourd, to say that, "'Pon my soul, you know, the whole precious mob looked like a ghastly pack of court cards, you know." St. Addlegourd was a radical. Having a rent-roll of L15,000,000, and belonging to one of the oldest families in Britain, he could afford to be.
"Mamma, I've just dropped a pearl," said the Lady Coriander, bending over the Persian hearthrug.
"From your lips, sweet friend," said Lothaw, who came of age and entered the room at the same moment.
"No, from my work. It was a very valuable pearl, mamma; papa gave Isaacs and Sons L50,000 for the two."
"Ah, indeed," said the Duchess, languidly rising; "let us go to luncheon."
"But your Grace," interposed Lothaw, who was still quite young, and had dropped on all-fours on the carpet in search of the missing gem, "consider the value—"
"Dear friend," interposed the Duchess, with infinite tact, gently lifting him by the tails of his dress-coat, "I am waiting for your arm."
CHAPTER II
Lothaw was immensely rich. The possessor of seventeen castles, fifteen villas, nine shooting-boxes, and seven town houses, he had other estates of which he had not even heard.
Everybody at Plusham played croquet, and none badly. Next to their purity of blood and great wealth, the family were famous for this accomplishment. Yet Lothaw soon tired of the game, and after seriously damaging his aristocratically large foot in an attempt to "tight croquet" the Lady Aniseed's ball, he limped away to join the Duchess.
"I'm going to the hennery," she said.
"Let me go with you, I dearly love fowls—broiled," he added, thoughtfully.
"The Duke gave Lady Montairy some large Cochins the other day," continued the Duchess, changing the subject with delicate tact.
"Lady Montairy,
Quite contrairy,
How do your cochins grow?"
sang Lothaw gayly.
The Duchess looked shocked. After a prolonged silence, Lothaw abruptly and gravely said:—
"If you please,
