oquettish
little bonnet, trimmed with pink, shaded by one of those nondescript
articles at present called veils, which article was made of white
spotted net with a pink ruche round it, sailed Afy Hallijohn, conceited
and foolish and good-looking as ever. Catching sight of Mr. Dill, she
made him a flourishing and gracious bow. The courteous old gentleman
returned it, and was pounced upon by Miss Corny's tongue for his pains.

"Whatever possessed you to do that?"

"Well, Miss Corny, she spoke to me. You saw her."

"I saw her? Yes, I did see her, the brazen bellwether! And she saw me,
and spoke to you in her insolence. And you must answer her, in spite
of my presence, instead of shaking your fist and giving her a reproving
frown. You want a little sharp talking to, yourself."

"But, Miss Corny, it's always best to let bygones be bygones," he
pleaded. "She was flighty and foolish, and all that, was Afy; but now
that it's proved she did not go with Richard Hare, as was suspected, and
is at present living creditably, why should she not be noticed?"

"If the very deuce himself stood there with his horns and tail, you
would find excuses to make for him," fired Miss Corny. "You are as bad
as Archibald! Notice Afy Hallijohn, when she dresses and flirts and
minces as you saw her but now! What creditable servant would flaunt
abroad in such a dress and bonnet as that, with that flimsy gauze thing
over her face. It's as disreputable as your shirt-front."

Mr. Dill coughed humbly, not wishing to renew the point of the
shirt-front. "She is not exactly a servant, Miss Corny, she's a lady's
maid; and ladies' maids do dress outrageously fine. I had great respect
for her father, ma'am; never a better clerk came into our office."

"Perhaps you'll tell me you have a respect for her! The world's being
turned upside down, I think. Formerly, mistresses kept their servants to
work; now it seems they keep them for play! She's going to St. Jude's,
you may be sure of it, to stare at this fine wedding, instead of being
at home, in a cotton gown and white apron, making beds. Mrs. Latimer
must be a droll mistress, to give her liberty in this way. What's that
fly for?" sharply added Miss Corny, as one drew up to the office door.

"Fly," said Mr. Dill, stretching forward his bald head. "It must be the
one I ordered. Then I'll wish you good-day, Miss Corny."

"Fly for you?" cried Miss corny. "Have you got the gout, that you could
not walk to St.