agged out of its place, for the mere pleasure of
making a litter, and dragging it in again.

"Look at the lawn! Covered with broken dishes, earless jugs, cracked
plates, and bottomless saucepans," continued Mrs. Kitson. "What a dish
of nuts for my neighbours to crack! They always enjoy a hearty laugh at
my expense, on Kitson's clearing-up days. But what does he care for my
distress? In vain I hide up all this old trumpery in the darkest nooks
in the cellar and pantry--nothing escapes his prying eyes; and then he
has such a memory, that if he misses an old gallipot he raises a storm
loud enough to shake down the house.

"The last time he went to London," pursued the old lady, "I collected a
vast quantity of useless trash, and had it thrown into the pond behind
the house. Well, when he cleared the decks next time, if he did not miss
the old broken crockery, all of which, he said, he meant to mend with
white lead on rainy days; while the broken bottles, forsooth, he had
saved to put on the top of the brick wall, to hinder the little boys
from climbing over to steal the apples! Oh, dear, dear, dear! there was
no end to his bawling, and swearing, and calling me hard names, while he
had the impudence to tell Kelly, in my hearing, that I was the most
extravagant woman in the world. Now, _I_, that have borne him seventeen
children, should know something about economy and good management; but
he gives me no credit at all for that. He began scolding again to-day,
but my poor head could not stand it any longer; so I came over to spend
a few minutes with you."

The handsome old lady paused to draw breath, and looked so much excited
with this recapitulation of her domestic wrongs, that Mrs. Lyndsay
thought it not improbable she had performed her own part in the
scolding.

As to Flora, she was highly amused by the old Captain's vagaries.
"By-the-bye," she said, "had he any luck in shooting this morning? He
was out by sunrise with his gun."

The old lady fell back in her chair, and laughed immoderately.

"Shooting! Yes, yes, that was another frolic of his. But Kitson's an old
fool, and I have told him so a thousand times. So you saw him this
morning with the gun?"

"Why, I was afraid he might shoot Lyndsay, who was shaving at the
window. The captain pointed his gun sometimes at the window, and
sometimes at the eaves of the house, but as the gun always missed fire,
I began to regain my courage, and so did the sparrows, for they