fast enough."

"I don't agree with you, Jane. It seems to me as if the whole of a
married woman's bliss consists in this--be tidy in your dress, don't
answer back, and give your husband a good dinner. That's what I did--I
repaired Meadowsweet, and I never riled him, and we hadn't a word, no,
not a word."

"All aren't like your blessed husband, Mrs Meadowsweet. Well, ma'am,
I'll go now and get the milk on for the cocoa."

She left the room, and Mrs. Meadowsweet sat on by the fire.

Presently there came a ring to the front door bell. Mrs. Meadowsweet
started up. Bee had some--no, it wasn't Bee--it was Mrs. Morris.

Her bronchitis was almost gone to-night; her voice was high, sharp and
quick.

"Well, my poor friend, and how are you?" she said.

"I wish you wouldn't call me your poor friend, Jessie," answered Mrs.
Meadowsweet, with almost irritation. "I don't know what has come to the
good folks here of late--'Poor dearing,' and 'poor friending' till I'm
sick of the sound of it. When I was married, people didn't look like
boiled vinegar over it; neighbors were chirpy and cheery about a wedding
in those days."

Mrs. Morris made no reply at all to this tirade. She sat down solemnly,
and looked around her.

"Is Beatrice in?" she asked.

"No, she's not; she went to the Manor some hours ago--I'm expecting my
girl back every minute. I've several things to say to her when she does
come in, so you won't take it amiss, Jessie, if I ask you not to stay."

"No, my dear neighbor, I won't take anything amiss, from you at present,
only, if I were you, I wouldn't worry Beatrice with advice to-night. Yon
have time enough for that. Time and to spare for that, poor dear."

"There you are with your 'poor dear,' again, Jessie. Now whose ring is
that at the bell? Oh, it's Bee, of course; come back at last, my girl
has. Well, Jessie Morris, I wish you good-night."

"Stay a minute, neighbor--that isn't Bee's voice." The door was opened,
and Miss Peters came in.

"How are you, Mrs. Meadowsweet," she said, running up to the good lady
and giving her a kiss, which resembled the peck of an eager bird, on her
cheek. "I ran on first, and Martha is following. I came to know how you
are, and how you're bearing up--and is Beatrice in?"

"I do declare," said Mrs. Meadowsweet. She rose from her easy-chair.
"You mean to be good-natured, neighbors, but really you're enough to
deave one. How am I bearing up? Am I the woman to bring ill-luck t