e enough to make a
cat laugh."

At length Mrs. Tabitha and her two daughters appeared, very smartly
dressed, but not very much at their ease, and a moment afterwards Sappy
announced dinner. Mr. De Mousa escorted Mrs. Tabitha with much graceful
dignity, and Mr. Tortoshell followed with Lady Angora; Young Tom just
rushing into the room in time to offer his attendance to his sisters,
who could not but wonder what extraordinary business could have kept him
so late in the City. Dinner was served. The rats'-tail soup was burnt;
Lady Angora could not touch it: but Sappy, in removing the plate,
managed to spill a considerable quantity over her ladyship's dress. The
fish was overdone on one side, and nearly raw on the other; so her
ladyship could not eat that. The fowls were old and tough; the venison
had not been hung long enough, and Minnie had forgotten the
currant-jelly. The blanc-mange and the ices had somehow been placed near
the kitchen fire; and, to crown all, Lady Angora declared that the only
dish she cared for was fricasseed mice. Mrs. Tabitha, excited to
desperation, jumped up from her seat with an expression of horror, as
though she had been dining with a cannibal; but the effort was too much
for her, for she immediately fell back in a swoon. Minnie flew to her
mamma's assistance, Katty rushed for the eau de Cologne, old Tom and
young Tom both rang the bells, and did nothing but create confusion; and
Mr. De Mousa and Lady Angora, without staying for a formal leave-taking,
quitted the room and the house with evident precipitation.

* * * * *

Since that day the cousins have not visited. Mr. Tortoshell has
discovered that a carriage is not so _very_ economical; and when by
chance he meets Mr. De Mousa, his attention is sure to be attracted by
something on the top of a neighbouring house. Mrs. Tabitha often reads
of Lady Angora in the "Morning Post," but she has never been heard to
mention that her ladyship has dined at Cypress Cottage.

[Illustration: THE MARRIAGE SETTLEMENT.]

ROOKWOOD HALL.

IN a quiet village in Cumberland, far retired from the great world,
there stands a noble old red-brick mansion, partly in ruins, and mostly
covered with ivy, which ever attracts the attention of the wayfarer who
passes through that remote district. For many years Rookwood Hall--so is
it called--has been in the possession of the ancient family of the
Rookes; father and son have grown