ly said Phoebe.

Cupid's response was the slightest oscillation of the extreme point of
his tail. But when Phoebe attempted to stroke him, to the surprise of
all parties, instead of snapping at her, as he was expected to do, Cupid
only wagged rather more decidedly; and when Phoebe proceeded to rub his
head and ears, he actually gave her, not a bite of resentment, but a
lick of friendliness.

"Deah! the sweet little deah! 'E's vewy good!" said his mistress.

The gentle reader is requested not to suppose that the elision of Mrs
Clarissa's poor letter H, as well as R, proceeded either from ignorance
or vulgarity--except so far as vulgarity lies in blindly following
fashion. Mrs Clarissa's only mistake was that, like most country
ladies, she was rather behind the age. The dropping of H and other
letters had been fashionable in the metropolis some eight years before.

"Clarissa, what a goose are you!" said Mrs Jane.

"Come, Jenny, don't you bite!" put in Lady Betty. "Cupid has set you a
better example than so."

"I'll not bite Clarissa, I thank you," was Mrs Jane's rather spiteful
answer. "It would want more than one fast-day to bring me to that.
Couldn't fancy the paint. And don't think I could digest the patches."

Lady Betty appeared to enjoy Mrs Jane's very uncivil speeches; while
Cupid's mistress remained untouched by them, being one of those persons
who affect not to hear anything to which they do not choose to respond.

"Well, Rhoda, child," said Lady Betty, as the coach neared home, "'tis
no good, I guess, to bid you drink tea on a fast-day?"

"Oh, but I am coming, my Lady Betty," answered Rhoda, briskly. "I mean
to drink a dish with every one of you."

"I shan't give you anything to eat," interpolated Mrs Jane. "Never do
to be guzzling on a fast-day. You won't get any sugar from me,
neither."

"Never mind, Mrs Jane," said Rhoda. "Mrs Dolly will give me
something, I know. And I shall visit her first."

Mrs Dorothy assented by a benevolent smile.

"I hope, child, you will not forget it is a fast-day," said Madam,
gravely, "and not go about to divert yourself in an improper manner."

"Oh no, Madam!" said Rhoda, drawing in her horns.

No sooner was dinner over--and as Rhoda had predicted, there was nothing
except boiled potatoes and bread and butter--than Rhoda pounced on
Phoebe, and somewhat authoritatively bade her come upstairs. Madam had
composed herself in her easy chair, with the "Eik