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McKinstry's thigh, and he is doing well, with every prospect of a speedy recovery."
Smiling, albeit not uncomplacently, at this valuable contribution to history from an unfettered press, his eye fell upon the next paragraph, perhaps not so complacently:--
"Benjamin Daubigny, Esq., who left town for Sacramento on important business, not entirely unconnected with his new interests in Indian Springs, will, it is rumored, be shortly joined by his wife, who has been enabled by his recent good fortune to leave her old home in the States, and take her proper proud position at his side. Although personally unknown to Indian Springs, Mrs. Daubigny is spoken of as a beautiful and singularly accomplished woman, and it is to be regretted that her husband's interests will compel them to abandon Indian Springs for Sacramento as a future residence. Mr. Daubigny was accompanied by his private secretary Rupert, the eldest son of H. G. Filgee, Esq., who has been a promising graduate of the Indian Spring Academy, and offers a bright example to the youth of this district. We are happy to learn that his younger brother is recovering rapidly from a slight accident received last week through the incautious handling of firearms."
The master, with his eyes upon the paper, remained so long plunged in a reverie that the school-room was quite filled and his little flock was wonderingly regarding him before he recalled himself. He was hurriedly reaching his hand towards the bell when he was attracted by the rising figure of Octavia Dean.
"Please, sir, you didn't ask if we had any news!"
"True--I forgot," said the master smiling. "Well, have you anything to tell us?"
"Yes, sir. Cressy McKinstry has left school."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, sir; she's married."
"Married," repeated the master with an effort, yet conscious of the eyes concentrated upon his colorless face. "Married--and to whom?"
"To Joe Masters, sir, at the Baptist Chapel at Big Bluff, Sunday, an'
Marm McKinstry was thar with her."
There was a momentary and breathless pause. Then the voices of his little pupils--those sage and sweet truants from tradition, those gentle but relentless historians of the future--rose around him in shrill chorus--"WHY, WE KNOWED IT ALL ALONG, SIR!"
