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“I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. ’ ‘But tell,’ demanded Melusine impatiently. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. He scratched his upper lip reflectively.
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