[Editorial] by-the-bye -> by the by

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 				<p>The conversation of the servants, when they assembled before the slowly lighting kitchen fire, referred to a recent family event, and turned at starting on this question: Had Thomas, the footman, seen anything of the concert at Clifton, at which his master and the two young ladies had been present on the previous night? Yes; Thomas had heard the concert; he had been paid for to go in at the back; it was a loud concert; it was a hot concert; it was described at the top of the bills as Grand; whether it was worth traveling sixteen miles to hear by railway, with the additional hardship of going back nineteen miles by road, at half-past one in the morning⁠—was a question which he would leave his master and the young ladies to decide; his own opinion, in the meantime, being unhesitatingly, No. Further inquiries, on the part of all the female servants in succession, elicited no additional information of any sort. Thomas could hum none of the songs, and could describe none of the ladies’ dresses. His audience, accordingly, gave him up in despair; and the kitchen small-talk flowed back into its ordinary channels, until the clock struck eight and startled the assembled servants into separating for their morning’s work.</p>
 				<p>A quarter past eight, and nothing happened. Half-past⁠—and more signs of life appeared from the bedroom regions. The next member of the family who came downstairs was <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Andrew Vanstone, the master of the house.</p>
 				<p>Tall, stout, and upright⁠—with bright blue eyes, and healthy, florid complexion⁠—his brown plush shooting-jacket carelessly buttoned awry; his vixenish little Scotch terrier barking unrebuked at his heels; one hand thrust into his waistcoat pocket, and the other smacking the banisters cheerfully as he came downstairs humming a tune⁠—<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Vanstone showed his character on the surface of him freely to all men. An easy, hearty, handsome, good-humored gentleman, who walked on the sunny side of the way of life, and who asked nothing better than to meet all his fellow-passengers in this world on the sunny side, too. Estimating him by years, he had turned fifty. Judging him by lightness of heart, strength of constitution, and capacity for enjoyment, he was no older than most men who have only turned thirty.</p>
-				<p>“Thomas!” cried <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Vanstone, taking up his old felt hat and his thick walking stick from the hall table. “Breakfast, this morning, at ten. The young ladies are not likely to be down earlier after the concert last night.⁠—By-the-by, how did you like the concert yourself, eh? You thought it was grand? Quite right; so it was. Nothing but crash-bang, varied now and then by bang-crash; all the women dressed within an inch of their lives; smothering heat, blazing gas, and no room for anybody⁠—yes, yes, Thomas; grand’s the word for it, and comfortable isn’t.” With that expression of opinion, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Vanstone whistled to his vixenish terrier; flourished his stick at the hall door in cheerful defiance of the rain; and set off through wind and weather for his morning walk.</p>
+				<p>“Thomas!” cried <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Vanstone, taking up his old felt hat and his thick walking stick from the hall table. “Breakfast, this morning, at ten. The young ladies are not likely to be down earlier after the concert last night.⁠—By the by, how did you like the concert yourself, eh? You thought it was grand? Quite right; so it was. Nothing but crash-bang, varied now and then by bang-crash; all the women dressed within an inch of their lives; smothering heat, blazing gas, and no room for anybody⁠—yes, yes, Thomas; grand’s the word for it, and comfortable isn’t.” With that expression of opinion, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Vanstone whistled to his vixenish terrier; flourished his stick at the hall door in cheerful defiance of the rain; and set off through wind and weather for his morning walk.</p>
 				<p>The hands, stealing their steady way round the dial of the clock, pointed to ten minutes to nine. Another member of the family appeared on the stairs⁠—Miss Garth, the governess.</p>
 				<p>No observant eyes could have surveyed Miss Garth without seeing at once that she was a north-countrywoman. Her hard featured face; her masculine readiness and decision of movement; her obstinate honesty of look and manner, all proclaimed her border birth and border training. Though little more than forty years of age, her hair was quite gray; and she wore over it the plain cap of an old woman. Neither hair nor headdress was out of harmony with her face⁠—it looked older than her years: the hard handwriting of trouble had scored it heavily at some past time. The self-possession of her progress downstairs, and the air of habitual authority with which she looked about her, spoke well for her position in <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Vanstone’s family. This was evidently not one of the forlorn, persecuted, pitiably dependent order of governesses. Here was a woman who lived on ascertained and honorable terms with her employers⁠—a woman who looked capable of sending any parents in England to the right-about, if they failed to rate her at her proper value.</p>
 				<p>“Breakfast at ten?” repeated Miss Garth, when the footman had answered the bell, and had mentioned his master’s orders. “Ha! I thought what would come of that concert last night. When people who live in the country patronize public amusements, public amusements return the compliment by upsetting the family afterward for days together. <em>You’re</em> upset, Thomas, I can see your eyes are as red as a ferret’s, and your cravat looks as if you had slept in it. Bring the kettle at a quarter to ten⁠—and if you don’t get better in the course of the day, come to me, and I’ll give you a dose of physic. That’s a well-meaning lad, if you only let him alone,” continued Miss Garth, in soliloquy, when Thomas had retired; “but he’s not strong enough for concerts twenty miles off. They wanted <em>me</em> to go with them last night. Yes: catch me!”</p>

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 				<p>“I can only repeat, sir, I am sorry to have offended you,” said George.</p>
 				<p>“Pooh! pooh! you needn’t look at me in that languishing way if you are,” retorted the admiral. “Stick to your wine, and I’ll forgive you. Your good health, George. I’m glad to see you again at <abbr>St.</abbr> Crux. Look at that plateful of sponge-cakes! The cook has sent them up in honor of your return. We can’t hurt her feelings, and we can’t spoil our wine. Here!”⁠—The admiral tossed four sponge-cakes in quick succession down the accommodating throats of the dogs. “I am sorry, George,” the old gentleman gravely proceeded; “I am really sorry you haven’t got your eye on one of those nice girls. You don’t know what a loss you’re inflicting on yourself; you don’t know what trouble and mortification you’re causing me by this shilly-shally conduct of yours.”</p>
 				<p>“If you would only allow me to explain myself, sir, you would view my conduct in a totally different light. I am ready to marry tomorrow, if the lady will have me.”</p>
-				<p>“The devil you are! So you have got a lady in your eye, after all? Why in Heaven’s name couldn’t you tell me so before? Never mind, I’ll forgive you everything, now I know you have laid your hand on a wife. Fill your glass again. Here’s her health in a bumper. By-the-by, who is she?”</p>
+				<p>“The devil you are! So you have got a lady in your eye, after all? Why in Heaven’s name couldn’t you tell me so before? Never mind, I’ll forgive you everything, now I know you have laid your hand on a wife. Fill your glass again. Here’s her health in a bumper. By the by, who is she?”</p>
 				<p>“I’ll tell you directly, admiral. When we began this conversation, I mentioned that I was a little anxious⁠—”</p>
 				<p>“She’s not one of my round dozen of nice girls⁠—aha, Master George, I see that in your face already! Why are you anxious?”</p>
 				<p>“I am afraid you will disapprove of my choice, sir.”</p>

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 				<p>“He only saw me once,” she said, “and he only saw me some time ago. How came he to remember me when he found me here?”</p>
 				<p>“Aha!” said the captain. “Now you have hit the right nail on the head at last. You can’t possibly be more surprised at his remembering you than I am. A word of advice, my dear. When you are well enough to get up and see <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Kirke, try how that sharp question of yours sounds in <em>his</em> ears, and insist on his answering it himself.” Slipping out of the dilemma in that characteristically adroit manner, Captain Wragge got briskly on his legs again and took up his hat.</p>
 				<p>“Wait!” she pleaded. “I want to ask you⁠—”</p>
-				<p>“Not another word,” said the captain. “I have given you quite enough to think of for one day. My time is up, and my gig is waiting for me. I am off, to scour the country as usual. I am off, to cultivate the field of public indigestion with the triple plowshare of aloes, scammony and gamboge.” He stopped and turned round at the door. “By-the-by, a message from my unfortunate wife. If you will allow her to come and see you again, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wragge solemnly promises <em>not</em> to lose her shoe next time. <em>I</em> don’t believe her. What do you say? May she come?”</p>
+				<p>“Not another word,” said the captain. “I have given you quite enough to think of for one day. My time is up, and my gig is waiting for me. I am off, to scour the country as usual. I am off, to cultivate the field of public indigestion with the triple plowshare of aloes, scammony and gamboge.” He stopped and turned round at the door. “By the by, a message from my unfortunate wife. If you will allow her to come and see you again, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wragge solemnly promises <em>not</em> to lose her shoe next time. <em>I</em> don’t believe her. What do you say? May she come?”</p>
 				<p>“Yes; whenever she likes,” said Magdalen. “If I ever get well again, may poor <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wragge come and stay with me?”</p>
 				<p>“Certainly, my dear. If you have no objection, I will provide her beforehand with a few thousand impressions in red, blue, and yellow of her own portrait (‘You might have blown this patient away with a feather before she took the pill. Look at her now!’). She is sure to drop herself about perpetually wherever she goes, and the most gratifying results, in an advertising point of view, must inevitably follow. Don’t think me mercenary⁠—I merely understand the age I live in.” He stopped on his way out, for the second time, and turned round once more at the door. “You have been a remarkably good girl,” he said, “and you deserve to be rewarded for it. I’ll give you a last piece of information before I go. Have you heard anybody inquiring after you, for the last day or two, outside your door? Ah! I see you have. A word in your ear, my dear. That’s <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Kirke.” He tripped away from the bedside as briskly as ever. Magdalen heard him advertising himself to the nurse before he closed the door. “If you are ever asked about it,” he said, in a confidential whisper, “the name is Wragge, and the pill is to be had in neat boxes, price thirteen pence halfpenny, government stamp included. Take a few copies of the portrait of a female patient, whom you might have blown away with a feather before she took the pill, and whom you are simply requested to contemplate now. Many thanks. <em>Good</em>-morning.”</p>
 				<p>The door closed and Magdalen was alone again. She felt no sense of solitude; Captain Wragge had left her with something new to think of. Hour after hour her mind dwelt wonderingly on <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Kirke, until the evening came, and she heard his voice again through the half-opened door.</p>