' May."

"I've got the new Moniture, Miss Warrender, and there are some sweet
things in it,--some sweetly pretty things," said Lizzie, holding up her
paper. Minnie and Chatty, though they were such steady girls, were not
above being fluttered by the Moniteur de la Mode. They both abandoned
the muslin-work, and passed through the little door of the counter which
Mrs. Bagley held open for them. The room behind, though perhaps not free
from a little perfume of the cheese and bacon which occupied the back
part of the shop, was pleasant enough; it had a broad lattice window,
looking over the pleasant fields, under which stood Lizzie's work-table,
a large white wooden one, very clean and old, with signs of long scrubbing
and the progress of time, scattered over with the little litter of
dressmaking. The floor was white deal, very clean also, with a bit of
bright-coloured carpet under Lizzie's chair. As it was the sitting-room
and kitchen and all, there was a little fire in the grate.

"Now," said Mrs. Bagley, coming in after them and shutting the door, for
there was no very lively traffic in the shop, "the young ladies is young
like yourself, not to take too great a liberty, and you think as I'm old
and old-fashioned. Just you tell the young ladies straight off, and see
what they'll say."

"It ain't of such dreadful consequence, granny. A person would think my
life depended on it to hear you speak. Sleeves are quite small this
summer, as I said they would be; and if you'll look at this trimming,
Miss Chatty, it is just the right thing for crape."

"People don't wear crape, Miss Muffler tells us, nearly so much as they
used to do," said Miss Warrender, "or at least not nearly so long as
they used to do. Six months, she says, for a parent."

"Your common dresses will be worn out by then, miss," said Lizzie. "I
wouldn't put any on your winter frocks, if I was you, for black materials
are always heavy, and crape don't show on those thick stuffs. I'd just
have a piping for the best, and----"

"What's that," said Chatty, who was the most curious, "that has such a
strong scent--and gilt-edged paper? You must have got some very grand
correspondent, Lizzie."

Lizzie made a hasty movement to secure a letter which lay on the table,
and looked as if about to thrust it into her pocket. She changed her
mind, however, with a slight scowl on her innocent-seeming countenance,
and, reluctantly unfolding it, showed the date in large gilt