“They died within a few months of one another. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. " "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. Three little letters can’t make a bit of difference. And, as usual,” she continued, a little bitterly, “I seem to have been sent along with the dullest and least edifying of Mrs.
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