But Mr.
Fitzgerald won't fight _me_, let me say what I will.

So I think I had better go." "Yes, you had better go.

You're a born diplomate, which I am not," replied the Signor.
Arrangements were accordingly made for going in a day or two; but they were arrested by three or four lines from Rosa, stating that she was getting well, that she had everything for her comfort, and would write more fully soon.

But what surprised them was that she requested them to address her as Madame Gonsalez, under cover to her mantuamaker in Savannah, whose address was given.
"That shows plainly enough that she and Fitzgerald have dissolved partnership," said Madame; "but as she does not ask me to come, I will wait for her letter of explanation." Meanwhile, however, she wrote very affectionately in reply to the brief missive, urging Rosa to come to New Orleans, and enclosing fifty dollars, with the statement that an old friend of her father's had died and left a legacy for his daughters.

Madame had, as Floracita observed, a talent for arranging the truth with variations.
The March of the Southern spring returned, wreathed with garlands, and its pathway strewn with flowers.