f the room. Poor Matty's blushes changed to pallor, and her hand shook
as she pessed Miss Peters her creamless tea. Mr. Jones also, who had
been listening to the conversation in a half-hearted way suddenly felt
himself turning very rigid and stiff, and the eyes which he fixed on
Daisy Jenkins took a glassy stare as though he were looking through that
young lady into futurity.

Mrs. Butler liked to tell her news with effect and she felt now that she
had made a profound sensation.

"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand. "I thought I'd drop in and
tell you, as being old friends, but I must go on at once to congratulate
dear Mrs. Meadowsweet. There's no doubt at all; Bee is engaged, and we
saw them just now in a boat at the other side of the harbor, all alone,
and making love as hard as they could. It's a pretty match, and she's a
fine girl. Good-bye, Mrs. Bell; come, Maria."

"Yes," said Mrs. Bell. "Yes. Not that I believe a word of the story--you
didn't tell us the name of the--the future bridegroom--not that I
believe a word."

"Oh, yes, you do believe. Didn't I mention the bridegroom's name? Well,
somehow I thought that went without saying. He's Captain Bertram, of
course. Good-bye, Matty. Come, Maria."

The two ladies disappeared, and the Bells and their other guests were
left to face each other, and discuss the news.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THAT FICKLE MATTY.

"Well, doctor, and where are you off to now?" The speaker was the
doctor's wife. "I do think it's unreasonable of people," continued this
good lady, "to send for you just when you are sitting down to your
comfortable breakfast, and you so particular as you are about your
coffee."

"Who is it, Mary Anne? Who's the messenger from?" turning to the
maid-servant, who stood in a waiting attitude half-in, half-out of the
door.

"Oh, it's only the Bells. You needn't hurry off to the Bells, Tom."

"As well they as another," retorted Dr. Morris "Tell the messenger I'll
be round directly, Mary Anne. Now, what's the matter, old lady? Why
should you fidget yourself, and have such a spiteful tone when the Bells
are mentioned?"

"Oh, I'm sick of them, and their airs and affectations," growled Mrs.
Morris, who suddenly put on her thickest and most bronchial tones. "What
with their afternoon tea, and their grand at-homes, and the ridiculous
way they've been going on about that little Matty lately, I really lose
all patience with them. What's the consequence