ing herself. "'Tis so unlikely, you know, for any one to do such a
thing as this, without it were either an obligation or a trick to win
praise. And I can't think _that_,--'tis too much."

"Nay, but surely there is some love and generosity left in the world,"
urged Mrs Eleanor.

"Oh, if you had had my experience, my dear," returned Mrs Marcella,
working her fan more vigorously, "you would know there were no such
things to be looked for in _this_ world. I've looked for gratitude, I
can assure you, till I am tired."

"Gratitude for what?" inquired Mrs Darcy, rather pertinently.

"Oh, for all the things one does for people, you know. They are never
thankful for them--not one bit."

Mrs Darcy felt and looked rather puzzled. During the fifty years of
their acquaintance, she never could remember to have seen Marcella
Talbot do one disinterested kindness to any mortal being.

"They take all you give them," pursued the last-named lady, "and then
they just go and slander you behind your back. Oh, 'tis a miserable
world, this!--full of malice, envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness, as
the Prayer-Book says."

"The Prayer-Book does not exactly say that, I think," suggested Mrs
Eleanor; "it asks that we ourselves may be preserved from such evil
passions."

"I am sure I wish people were preserved from them!" ejaculated Mrs
Clarissa. "The uncharitableness, and misunderstanding, and unkind words
that people will allow themselves to use! 'Tis perfectly heartrending
to hear."

"Especially when one hears it of one's self," responded Mrs Eleanor a
little drily; adding, for she wished to give a turn to the conversation,
"Did you hear the news Dr Saunders was telling yesterday? The Czar of
Muscovy offers to treat with King George, but as Elector of Hanover
only."

"What, he has come thus far, has he?" replied Mrs Marcella. "Why, 'tis
but five or six years since he was ready to marry his daughter to the
Pretender, could they but have come to terms. Sure, King George will
never accept of such a thing as that?"

"I should think not, indeed!" added Mrs Clarissa. "Well, did he want a
bit of sugar, then?"

Pug held out his paw, and very decidedly intimated that he did.

"Mrs Leighton wants Pug; I shall give him to her," observed his
mistress. "'Tis not quite so modish to keep monkeys as it was: I shall
have a squirrel."

"A bit more sugar?" asked Mrs Eleanor, addressing the monkey. "Poor
Pug!"

Next door but one