After breakfast, that morning, Chrysophrasia had sent word to Mrs.
Carvel that she should be glad to see her, if she could come up to her
boudoir. Chrysophrasia never came down to breakfast. She regarded that
meal as a barbarism, forgetting that the mediaeval persons she admired
began their days by taking to themselves a goodly supply of food. She
never appeared before lunch, but spent her mornings in the solitude of
her own apartment, probably in the composition of verses which have
remained hitherto unpublished. Mrs. Carvel at once acceded to the
request conveyed in her sister's message, and went to answer the
summons. She was not greatly pleased at the idea of spending the morning
with her sister, for she devoted the early hours to religious reading
whenever she was able; but she was the most obliging woman in the world,
and so she quietly put aside her own wishes, and mounted the stairs to
Miss Dabstreak's boudoir. She found the latter clad in loose garments of
strange cut and hue, and a green silk handkerchief was tied about her
forehead, presumably out of respect for certain concealed curl papers
rather than for any direct purpose of adornment. Chrysophrasia looked
very faded in the morning. As Mrs. Carvel entered the room, her sister
pointed languidly to a chair, and then paused a moment, as though to
recover from the exertion.

"Mary," said she at last, and even from the first tone of her voice Mrs.
Carvel felt that a severe lecture was imminent,--"Mary, this thing is a
hollow sham. It cannot be allowed to go on any longer."

Mrs. Carvel's face assumed a sweet and sad expression, and folding her
hands upon her knees, she leaned slightly forward from the chair upon
which she sat, and prepared to soothe her sister's views upon hollow
shams in general.

"My dear," said she, "you must endeavor to be charitable."

"I do not see the use of being charitable," returned Chrysophrasia, with
more energy than she was wont to display. "Dear me, Mary, what in the
world has charity to do with the matter? Can you look at me and say that
it has anything to do with it?"

No. Mary could not look at her and say so, for a very good reason. She
had not the most distant idea what Chrysophrasia was talking about. On
general principles, she had made a remark about being charitable, and
was now held to account for it. She smiled timidly, as though to
deprecate her sister's vengeance.

"Mary," said Chrysophrasia, in a tone of sorro