nd confusion which this last new incident had brought
upon her. Things were going too fast around her, and the timid woman
was out of breath. Lucy's composure at such a moment, and, above all,
the production of her needlework, was beyond the comprehension of the
elder sister.

"My dear," said Miss Wodehouse, with an effort, "I don't doubt that
these poor people are badly off, and I am sure it is very good of you
to work for them; but if you will only think how many things there are
to do! My darling, I am afraid you will have to--to make your own
dresses in future, which is what I never thought to see," she said,
putting her handkerchief to her eyes; "and we have not had any talk
about anything, Lucy, and there are so many things to think of!" Miss
Wodehouse, who was moving about the room as she spoke, began to lift
her own books and special property off the centre table. The books
were principally ancient Annuals in pretty bindings, which no
representation on Lucy's part could induce her to think out of date;
and among her other possessions was a little desk in Indian mosaic, of
ivory, which had been an institution in the house from Lucy's earliest
recollection. "And these are yours, Lucy dear," said Miss Wodehouse,
standing up on a chair to take down from the wall two little pictures
which hung side by side. They were copies both, and neither of great
value; one representing the San Sisto Madonna, and the other a sweet
St Agnes, whom Lucy had in her earlier days taken to her heart. Lucy's
slumbering attention was roused by this sacrilegious act. She gave a
little scream, and dropped her work out of her hands.

"What do I mean?" said Miss Wodehouse; "indeed, Lucy dear, we must
look it in the face. It is not our drawing-room any longer, you know."
Here she made a pause, and sighed; but somehow a vision of the other
drawing-room which was awaiting her in the new rectory, made the
prospect less doleful than it might have been. She cleared up in a
surprising way as she turned to look at her own property on the table.
"My cousin Jack gave me this," said the gentle woman, brushing a
little dust off her pretty desk. "When it came first, there was
nothing like it in Carlingford, for that was before Colonel Chiley and
those other Indian people had settled here. Jack was rather fond of
me in those days, you know, though I never cared for him," the elder
sister continued, with a smile. "Poor fellow! they said he was not
very ha