hat
could have befallen her sisters.

"And what is Ethel doing?" asked the doctor.

"Packing up parcels, papa," and Ethel's face was raised, looking very
merry.

"Packing parcels! How long will they last tied up?" said Dr. May,
laughing.

"Lasting is the concern of nothing in the fair, papa," answered she, in
the same tone.

For Ethel was noted as the worst packer in the house; but, having
offered to wrap up a pincushion, sold by a hurried Miss Hoxton, she
became involved in the office for the rest of the day--the same which
Bellairs and her companion performed at the Langdale counter. Flora was
too ready and dexterous to need any such aid, but the Misses Hoxton
were glad to be spared the trouble; and Blanche, whose fingers were far
neater than Ethel's, made the task much easier, and was kept constant
to it by her dread of the dark moustache, which was often visible near
their tent, searching, she thought, for her.

Their humble employment was no sinecure; for this was the favourite
stall with the purchasers of better style, since the articles were, in
general, tasteful, and fairly worth the moderate price set on them. At
Miss Cleveland's counter there was much noisy laughter--many jocular
cheats--tricks for gaining money, and refusals to give change; and it
seemed to be very popular with the Stoneborough people, and to carry
on a brisk trade. The only languor was in Lady Leonora's quarter--the
articles were too costly, and hung on hand; nor were the ladies
sufficiently well known, nor active enough, to gain custom, excepting
Meta, who drove a gay traffic at her end of the stall, which somewhat
redeemed the general languor.

Her eyes were, all the time, watching for her father, and, suddenly
perceiving him, she left her trade in charge of the delighted and
important Mary, and hastened to walk round with him, and show him the
humours of the fair.

Mary, in her absence, had the supreme happiness of obtaining Norman as
a customer. He wanted a picture for his rooms at Oxford, and
water-coloured drawings were, as Tom had observed, suitable staple
commodities for Miss Rivers. Mary tried to make him choose a
brightly-coloured pheasant, with a pencil background; and, then, a fine
foaming sea-piece, by some unknown Lady Adelaide, that much dazzled her
imagination; but nothing would serve him but a sketch of an old cedar
tree, with Stoneborough Minster in the distance, and the Welsh hills
beyond, which Mary thought a