(God bless
them!) may as well be without their spectacles, or their elbow-chair,
as their prayer-book--I love them for it.

Margaret's was a handsome octavo, printed by Baskerville, the binding
red, and fortified with silver at the edges. Out of this book it was
their custom every afternoon to read the proper psalms appointed for
the day.

The way they managed was this: they took verse by verse--Rosamund
_read_ her little portion, and Margaret repeated hers in turn, from
memory--for Margaret could say all the Psalter by heart, and a good
part of the Bible besides. She would not unfrequently put the girl
right when she stumbled or skipped. This Margaret imputed to
giddiness--a quality which Rosamund was by no means remarkable
for--but old ladies, like Margaret, are not in all instances alike
discriminative.

They had been employed in this manner just before Miss Clare arrived
at the cottage. The psalm they had been reading was the hundred and
fourth--Margaret was naturally led by it into a discussion of the
works of creation.

There had been _thunder_ in the course of the day--an occasion of
instruction which the old lady never let pass--she began--

"Thunder has a very awful sound--some say God Almighty is angry
whenever it thunders--that it is the voice of God speaking to us; for
my part, I am not afraid of it"----

And in this manner the old lady was going on to particularize, as
usual, its beneficial effects, in clearing the air, destroying of
vermin, &c., when the entrance of Miss Clare put an end to her
discourse.

Rosamund received her with respectful tenderness--and, taking her
grandmother by the hand, said, with great sweetness,--"Miss Clare is
come to see you, grandmother."

"I beg pardon, lady--I cannot _see_ you--but you are heartily
welcome. Is your brother with you, Miss Clare?--I don't hear him."

"He could not come, madam, but he sends his love by me."

"You have an excellent brother, Miss Clare--but pray do us the honor
to take some refreshment--Rosamund"----

And the old lady was going to give directions for a bottle of her
currant wine--when Elinor, smiling, said "she was come to take a cup
of tea with her, and expected to find no ceremony."

"After tea, I promise myself a walk with you, Rosamund, if your
grandmother can spare you." Rosamund looked at her grandmother.

"Oh, for that matter, I should be sorry to debar the girl from any
pleasure--I am sure it's lonesome enough for her t