please. Mr.
Dale has his own opinions, and it becomes me, you know, as a parson's
wife" (said smilingly: Mrs. Dale has as pretty a dimple as any of Miss
Jemima's, and makes more of that one than Miss Jemima of three), "to
agree with him,--that is, in theology."

MISS JEMIMA (earnestly).--"But the thing is so clear, if you will but
look into--"

MRS. DALE (putting her hand on Miss Jemima's lips playfully).--"Not a
word more. Pray, what do you think of the squire's tenant at the Casino,
Signor Riccabocca? An interesting creature, is he not?"

MISS JEMIMA.--"Interesting! not to me. Interesting? Why is he
interesting?"

Mrs. Dale is silent, and turns her handkerchief in her pretty little
white hands, appearing to contemplate the R in Caroline.

MISS JEMIMA (half pettishly, half coaxingly).--"Why is he interesting?
I scarcely ever looked at him; they say he smokes, and never eats. Ugly,
too!"

MRS. DALE.--"Ugly,--no. A fine bead,--very like Dante's; but what is
beauty?"

MISS JEMIMA.--"Very true: what is it indeed? Yes, as you say, I think
there is something interesting about him; he looks melancholy, but that
may be because he is poor."

MRS. DALE.--"It is astonishing how little one feels poverty when one
loves. Charles and I were very poor once,--before the squire--" Mrs.
Dale paused, looked towards the squire, and murmured a blessing, the
warmth of which brought tears into her eyes. "Yes," she added, after a
pause, "we were very poor, but we were happy even then,--more thanks
to Charles than to me;" and tears from a new source again dimmed those
quick, lively eyes, as the little woman gazed fondly on her husband,
whose brows were knit into a black frown over a bad hand.

MISS JEMIMA.--"It is only those horrid men who think of money as a
source of happiness. I should be the last person to esteem a gentleman
less because he was poor."

MRS. DALE.--"I wonder the squire does not ask Signor Riccabocca here
more often. Such an acquisition we find him!"

The squire's voice from the card-table.--"Whom ought I to ask more
often, Mrs. Dale?"

Parson's voice, impatiently.--"Come, come, come, squire: play to my
queen of diamonds,--do!"

SQUIRE.--"There, I trump it! pick up the trick, Mrs. H."

PARSON.--"Stop! Stop! trump my diamond?"

THE CAPTAIN (solemnly).--"'Trick turned; play on, Squire."

SQUIRE.--"The king of diamonds."

MRS. HAZELDEAN.--"Lord! Hazeldean, why, that's the most barefaced
revoke,--ha, ha, h