did you hear her? Them hussies without homes
ain't got no call to give themselves airs,--bits of things workin' for
their livin'."

"I'm afraid I'm in the same category, as I have no home," I said by
way of turning her wrath.

"Oh, well, yes, but you're different; you don't have to _work_ for
your livin'."

"Have you any daughters?" I asked.

"I had one, but she soon married. Like me, she was snapped up soon as
she was old enough." Mrs Bray laughed delightedly.

Here was a broad-minded democrat who considered a woman lowered in
becoming a useful working member of society, instead of remaining a
toy or luxury kept by her father or some other man, and who, while
loudly bawling for the emancipation of women from the yoke of men,
nevertheless considered the only distinction a woman could achieve was
through their favourable notice--an attitude of mind produced by moral
and social codes so effectively calculated to foster immoral and
untenable inconsistency!

THREE.

BECOMING ACQUAINTED WITH GRANDMA CLAY.

When I returned the 'busman was driving away after having brought Miss
Flipp's uncle, and Andrew was assisting to fill a spring-cart with
pumpkins. This vehicle had arrived under guidance of a tall, fair
young man with perfect teeth and a pleasant smile, which kept them
well before the public, seeing they were not concealed by any hirsute
ambuscade, regarding the adorning qualities of which Dawn and her
grandmother were divided. The former came out to inform Andrew that
the pony had to be harnessed, as Mrs Clay had promised Miss Flipp she
could drive her uncle back to catch the train.

"I hope the old thing won't smash up the sulky," said Andrew. "He's
the old bloke that come down here in the summer in a check suit, an' I
told him you was all out an' we was full up."

"A few of him would soon fill up. He! he! ha! ha!" laughed the fair
young man. "He looks as if he were always full up! He! he! ha! ha!
ha!"

"Well, he's the purplest plum I ever saw," said Dawn. "He's a complete
hog. He has one of these old noses, all blue, like the big plums that
grew down near the pig-sty. I think he was grown near the pig-sty,
too, by the style of him. It must have taken a good many cases of the
best wine to get a nose just to that colour. Like a meerschaum pipe,
it takes a power of colouring to get 'em to the right tinge. And his
eyes hang out like this," said the girl, audaciously stretching her
pretty long-lashed