ed and rejoiced over exuberantly.

"You dear little thing! I do like you in your habit," cried she. "Turn
round--it fits beautifully. So you have been having a ride with the
doctor, and seeing everybody, I suppose? Mrs. Wiley wonders when you
will call."

"Oh yes, Bessie dear, you must not neglect Mrs. Wiley," said Mrs.
Carnegie.

"It will do some day with Lady Latimer--she has constant business at the
rectory," Bessie said. She did not wish to waste this precious afternoon
in duty-visits to people she did not care for.

"Well, I was to have written to you, and I never did," recommenced Miss
Buff.

"Out of sight, out of mind: don't apologize!"

But Miss Buff would explain and extenuate her broken promise: "The fact
is, my hands are almost too full: what with the school and the
committee, the organ and church, the missionary club and my district, I
am a regular lay-curate. Then there is Mr. Duffer's early service, eight
o'clock; and Fridays and Wednesdays and all the saints' days, and
decorating for the great festivals--perhaps a little too much of that,
but on Whitsunday the chancel was lovely, was it not, Mrs. Carnegie?"
Mrs. Carnegie nodded her acquiescence. "Then I have a green-house at
last, and that gives me something to do. I should like to show you my
green-house, Bessie. But you must be used to such magnificent things now
that perhaps you will not care for my small place."

"I shall care as much as ever. I prefer small things to great yet."

"And my fowl-house--you shall see that--and my pigeons. You used to be
so fond of live creatures, Bessie."

"By the by, Miss Buff, have you discovered yet the depredator of your
poultry-yard?" Mrs. Carnegie asked.

"No, but I have put a stop to his depredations. I strongly suspect that
pet subject of Miss Wort's--that hulking, idle son of Widow Burt. I am
sorry for _her_, but _he_ is no good. You know I wrote to the inspector
of police at Hampton. Did I not tell you? No! Well, but I did, and said
if he would send an extra man over to stay the night in the house and
watch who stole my pigeons, he should have coffee and hot buttered
toast; and I dare say Eppie would not have objected to sit up with him
till twelve. However, the inspector didn't--he did not consider it
necessary--but the ordinary police probably watched, for I have not been
robbed since. And that is a comfort; I hate to sleep with one eye open.
You are laughing, Bessie; you would not laugh if you ha