criptions on for the bazaar or the new organ, but she doesn't
carry it to that point."

"Quite so," I said, "and I'm by no means certain about Miss Sakers. She
may be all right. I hope she is. But I candidly confess that I by no
means like her manner."

At this moment the girl brought in a note, delivered by hand, from Mrs.
Mopworth. It said that she had sent an invitation to Eliza but had had
no reply. She felt so certain that the invitation must have been
delayed in the post (which was not surprising, considering the season),
that she had ventured to write again, though it might be against
etiquette. She hoped that we should both be able to come, and said that
on the previous occasion I had been the life and soul of the party.

"Well," I said, "Eliza, what would you like to do?"

"Oh, I'm going!" she replied.

"Then if you insist, I shall go with you. I've never had a word to say
against Mrs. Mopworth. It is true that _he_ is not in every particular
what--well, what I should care to be myself. Possibly he has not had my
advantages. I do not want to judge him too harshly. My dress clothes
are put away with my summer suit in the second drawer in the box-room.
Just put them to the fire to get the creases out. And, Eliza, write a
friendly note to Mrs. Mopworth, implying that we had never heard of the
party. I saw from the first that the omission was a mistake."

Eliza went away smiling. Women are so variable.

THE PEN-WIPER

Eliza always works me some little pretty trifle for my birthday, and
always has done so since the day when I led her to the hymeneal altar.
But it is not done at all as a matter of course. During the days before
my birthday, when she is working at the present, she keeps a clean
handkerchief by her side, and flings it over the work to hide it when I
enter the room. This makes it more of a surprise when the day comes. As
a rule, I whistle a few bars in a careless way before entering the
room, so as to give her plenty of time to get the work under the
handkerchief. There is no definite arrangement about this. I merely do
what good taste dictates. Last year, instead of the handkerchief, she
kept a large table-napkin by her side when she was working. However,
though I did not tell her so, this let the secret out. I knew that she
must be doing me a pair of slippers.

* * * * *

This year, on my birthday, when I came down to breakfast, I found
plac