"
Leaving the Gospeler lost in dark abstraction near the black mantel, the
Flowerpot allowed the sexton of the establishment to conduct her
funereally into the place assigned for her interview, and stopped aghast
before a huge black object standing therein.
"What's this?" she gasped, almost hysterically.
"Only a safe," said Mr. BENTHAM, with inexplicable bitterness of tone.
"Merely our fire-and-burglar-proof receptacle for the money constantly
pouring in from first-class American Comic journalism."--Here Mr.
BENTHAM slapped his forehead passionately, checked something like a sob
in his throat, and abruptly returned to the main office.
Scarcely, however, had he closed the door of communication behind him,
when another door, opening from the hall, was noiselessly unlatched, and
MAGNOLIA PENDRAGON glided into the arms of her friend.
"FLORA!" murmured the Southern girl, "I can scarcely credit my eyes! It
seems so long since we last met! You've been getting a new bonnet, I
see."
"It's like an absurd dream!" responded the Flowerpot, wonderingly
caressing her. "I've thought of you and your poor, ridiculous brother
twenty times a day.
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