Maud would have been of the same opinion--and wouldn't have construed
the fosy. And she was the most sagacious girl I ever experienced! As
you shall hear.
I was her lover, and she was mine. We loved ourselves to detraction.
Maud lived a mile from any other house--except one brick barn. Not
even a watch-dog about the place--except her father. This pompous old
weakling hated me boisterously; he said I was dedicated to hard drink,
and when in that condition was perfectly incompatible. I did not like
him, too.
One evening I called on Maud, and was surprised to meet her at the
gate, with a shawl drawn over her head, and apparently in great
combustion. She told me, hastily, the old man was ill of a fever, and
had nearly derided her by going crazy.
This was all a lie; something had gone wrong with the old party's
eyes--amanuensis of the equinox, or something; he couldn't see well,
but he was no more crazy than I was sober.
"I was sitting quietly by him," said Maud, "when he sat up in bed and
be-_gan!_ You never in all your born life! I'm so glad you've come;
you can take care of him while I fetch the doctor. He's quiet enough
now, but you just wait till he gets another paralogism. When _they_'re
on--oh my! You mustn't let him talk, nor get out of bed; doctor says
it would prolong the diagnosis.
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