could out of her. She is called Mrs. Graham, and she is in
mourning--not widow's weeds, but slightish mourning--and she is quite
young, they say,--not above five or six and twenty,--but so reserved!
They tried all they could to find out who she was and where she came
from, and, all about her, but neither Mrs. Wilson, with her pertinacious
and impertinent home-thrusts, nor Miss Wilson, with her skilful
manoeuvring, could manage to elicit a single satisfactory answer, or even
a casual remark, or chance expression calculated to allay their
curiosity, or throw the faintest ray of light upon her history,
circumstances, or connections. Moreover, she was barely civil to them,
and evidently better pleased to say 'good-by,' than 'how do you do.' But
Eliza Millward says her father intends to call upon her soon, to offer
some pastoral advice, which he fears she needs, as, though she is known
to have entered the neighbourhood early last week, she did not make her
appearance at church on Sunday; and she--Eliza, that is--will beg to
accompany him, and is sure she can succeed in wheedling something out of
her--you know, Gilbert, she can do anything. And we should call some
time, mamma; it's only proper, you know.'

'Of course, my dear. Poor thing! How lonely she must feel!'

'And pray, be quick about it; and mind you bring me word how much sugar
she puts in her tea, and what sort of caps and aprons she wears, and all
about it; for I don't know how I can live till I know,' said Fergus, very
gravely.

But if he intended the speech to be hailed as a master-stroke of wit, he
signally failed, for nobody laughed. However, he was not much
disconcerted at that; for when he had taken a mouthful of bread and
butter and was about to swallow a gulp of tea, the humour of the thing
burst upon him with such irresistible force, that he was obliged to jump
up from the table, and rush snorting and choking from the room; and a
minute after, was heard screaming in fearful agony in the garden.

As for me, I was hungry, and contented myself with silently demolishing
the tea, ham, and toast, while my mother and sister went on talking, and
continued to discuss the apparent or non-apparent circumstances, and
probable or improbable history of the mysterious lady; but I must confess
that, after my brother's misadventure, I once or twice raised the cup to
my lips, and put it down again without daring to taste the contents, lest
I should injure my digni