a strange thing, but I never can get that man to be suitably alive to my bunions. I'm sure I've preached him the length of a sermon times and times about it; but it never finds its way to his conscience. They're a troublesome thing are bunions, Miss Nunly; but perhaps you're not troubled with them ?"

Miss Nunly was happy to say that she was not, and rang the bell for lights.

"Now, this is what I call nice," said Miss Gabbatis, when the lamp was set upon the table, and the crimson curtains drawn. "I always say no room ever looks so cosy as Miss Nunly's, except, perhaps, it may be your dining-room at Braeton Lodge, Miss Maud. You know I'm so fond of a bit of oak wainscoting; it gives such a family dignity to a place, and doesn't wear out like paper; and then that dear, funny, oldfashioned little mirror there in the corner, that makes one's face look just for all the world as round and weenie as a threepenny-bit; and that charming portrait of your father in his robes, with powdered hair and ruffles; and this warmlooking crimson carpet, with such a pretty little

pattern of oak stippled in to match the furniture; everything looks so nice and comfortable, you know. And then, Miss Nunly herself to correspond, always looking so good and pleasant, as if there wasn't such a thing in the world as care. You see what it is, Miss Maud, to have a quiet mind; it's the best possession one can have."

Maud thought so too, but she did not say so.

“I always come to see Miss Nunly when I want cheering up a bit, — you'll excuse me saying it, but, you know, I really must express my sentiments. I can't keep anything corked up, never could in my life; and I'm sure, if there's a piece of sunshine to be seen anywhere in Marbrook it gets into this little room of yours. I can't imagine how it is, but I suppose a happy life makes such a difference to look back upon."

"Will you excuse us going on with our work?" said Miss Nunly, taking up the little child's frock which lay upon the table.

"Oh dear, yes, to be sure; don't make any apologies, you know I'm not a stranger; in fact, I've got a bit of work myself in my pocket. I

always take a little something to do, in case my friends ask me to sit down; for my fingers, with always having led such an active life, go twitching if they aren't employed;" and Miss Gabbatis produced from the folds of her brown alpaca dress a piece of netting, intended at some future period to develope into an anti-macassar. Once upon a time it might have been pronounced white; but, by reason of multitudinous peregrinations round the village of Braeton, it had acquired a tint slightly the reverse.

"This anti-macassar of mine," said Miss Gabbatis, spreading the work out upon her lap, and jerking her foot up in the air to reach the string over it, ready for operations, and then unfolding her mesh and netting needle out of her pockethandkerchief; "this anti-macassar of mine has been out to tea forty-nine times, and, you see, I haven't begun to darn the pattern in yet, so I'm not very industrious. I'm going to have a jubilee celebrated for it next time it goes out, which will be to your house, Miss Maud, as your mamma was kind enough to ask me to step over some day before long. You see I always make a

little knot on this side, every time it goes out, to keep count by. So Miss Mabel's not at the ball to-night- got something else to think about, I dare say. She used to have quite a taste for that sort of thing once, and no wonder, for I'm sure I never saw a white dress sit on any lady like Miss Mabel; and as for wreaths, you might have thought the flowers sprouted out of her head. naturally, they seemed to know their places so well. But she's taken such a change upon her of late; it's been quite the talk of the village what a different girl she is since that visit to Scarbro'. I always said watering places made a crisis in anybody's life. But, by the way, Miss Nunly, have you heard of this shocking accident to-day at the races?"

Miss Nunly's face flushed, and a strange, unquiet look came there, as it always did when the races were mentioned.

"No; I see so few people that I rarely hear what is going on. But I hope it was not fatal?"

"But it was, though;" and Miss Gabbatis drew her mesh out to commence a fresh row; "killed

him dead on the spot; there wasn't a bit of life left in him. A gentleman from one of the great manufacturing places about here."

"Ah! Do you remember the name?"

"Yes; I've a capital memory for names and dates, and those sorts of things, I know all the people's names in Braeton, and their birthdays too. It was a Mr. Hardcastle, a bachelor gentleman, and a great racing man. Poor fellow he's had one turn too much of it, that's all. But it's a sad thing, though. He was noted on the turf, and attended all the races regularly about here, and used to make a mint of money by betting, for somehow he always won. I make a point of pitying people that die on a sudden, specially if they were unprepared, as he was by all accounts."

"How did it happen?""

"But then, you know, we never can believe what people say. I remember when my eldest brother, that died twenty years ago next applegathering, was a young man, he was telling me about one of his fellow-students who laid a wager to go to