tor says he must be kept very quiet, and not
agitated on any account. So be pleased to take no notice of this--I mean
in the way of coming to the rectory. I have the doctor's orders to say
it is not needful, and it would only upset my master in the state he is
in now.

"I will write again if you wish it. Please accept of my duty, and
believe me to remain, sir, your humble servant,

"ROBERT STAPLETON.

"P. S.--The yacht has been rigged and repainted, waiting your orders.
She looks beautiful."

6. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_.

"Diana Street, July 24th.

"MISS GWILT--The post hour has passed for three mornings following,
and has brought me no answer to my letter. Are you purposely bent on
insulting me? or have you left Thorpe Ambrose? In either case, I won't
put up with your conduct any longer. The law shall bring you to book, if
I can't.

"Your first note of hand (for thirty pounds) falls due on Tuesday next,
the 29th. If you had behaved with common consideration toward me, I
would have let you renew it with pleasure. As things are, I shall have
the note presented; and, if it is not paid, I shall instruct my man of
business to take the usual course.

"Yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW."

7. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw_.

"5 Paradise Place, Thorpe Ambrose, July 25th.

"MRS. OLDERSHAW--The time of your man of business being, no doubt, of
some value, I write a line to assist him when he takes the usual course.
He will find me waiting to be arrested in the first-floor apartments,
at the above address. In my present situation, and with my present
thoughts, the best service you can possibly render me is to lock me up.

"L. G."

8. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_.

"Diana Street, July 26th.

"MY DARLING LYDIA--The longer I live in this wicked world the more
plainly I see that women's own tempers are the worst enemies women have
to contend with. What a truly regretful style of correspondence we have
fallen into! What a sad want of self-restraint, my dear, on your side
and on mine!

"Let me, as the oldest in years, be the first to make the needful
excuses, the first to blush for my own want of self-control. Your cruel
neglect, Lydia, stung me into writing as I did. I am so sensitive to
ill treatment, when it is inflicted on me by a person whom I love and
admire; and, though turned sixty, I am still (unfortunately for myself)
so young at heart. Accept my apologies for having made use of my
pen, when