The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. The girl nodded sagely. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. Shari was snoring soundly.
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