so lively," Mrs Winn was wont to observe. "I seldom pass
a day, even if I don't go out, without seeing Mr Field, or Mr Hurst,
or some of the country clergy, going in and out of Appleby's. I never
feel dull."

To-day, to her great relief, Delia found Mrs Winn quite alone. She was
sitting at a table drawn up into the bow-window, busily engaged in
covering books with whitey-brown paper. On her right was a pile of
gaily bound volumes, blue, red, and purple, which were quickly reduced
to a pale brown, unattractive appearance in her practised hands, and
placed in a pile on her left. Delia thought Mrs Winn looked
whitey-brown as well as the books, for there was no decided colour about
her: her eyes were pale, as well as the narrow line of hair which showed
beneath the border of her white cap; and her dresses were always of a
doubtful shade, between brown and grey.

She welcomed Delia kindly, but with the repressed air of severity which
she always reserved for her.

"How like your dear mother!" she exclaimed, on receiving the pot of
jelly.--"Yes; my cough is a little better, tell her, but I thought I
would keep indoors to-day--and, you see, I've all these books to get
through, so it's just as well. Mr Field got them in London for the
library the other day."

"What a pity they must be covered," said Delia, glancing from one pile
to the other; "the children would like the bright colours so much
better."

"A nice state they would be in, in a week," said Mrs Winn, stolidly, as
she folded, and snipped, and turned a book about in her large, capable
hands. "Besides, it's better to teach the children not to care for
pretty things."

"Is it?" said Delia. "I should have thought that was just what they
ought to learn."

"The love of pretty things," said Mrs Winn, sternly, "is like the love
of money, the root of all evil; and has led quite as many people
astray.--All these books have to be labelled and numbered," she added,
after a pause. "You might do some, Delia, if you're not in a hurry."

"Oh, but I am," said Delia, glancing at the clock. "I am going to Mr
Goodwin for a lesson, and I am late already."

Mrs Winn had, however, some information to give about Mr Goodwin.
Julia Gibbins, who had just looked in, had met him on the way to give a
lesson at Pynes.

"So," she added, "he can't possibly be home for another half-hour at
least, you know; and you may just as well spend the time in doing
something useful."

W