el, the Princess Ethelinda of
Cobourgh, I believe I may say, owes her present enlightenment to our
sweet evenings together."

"Begin with the posers."

"Hush! I say, Scroope."

"May I ask," said Kate, "what is the suggestion Mr. Purvis has been good
enough to repeat?"

"That I should give you this little tract, Miss Dalton," said Mrs.
Ricketts as she drew out a miscellaneous assemblage of articles from a
deep pocket, and selected from the mass a small blue-covered pamphlet,
bearing the title, "Three Posers for Papists, by M. R."

"Montague Ricketts," said Purvis, proudly; "she wrote it herself, and
the Pope won't let us into Rome in consequence. It 's very droll, too;
and the part about the the Vir-gin--"

"You will, I 'm sure, excuse me, madam," said Kate, "if I beg that this
subject be suffered to drop. My thanks for the interest this gentleman
and yourself have vouchsafed me will only be more lasting by leaving the
impression of them unassociated with anything unpleasing. You were good
enough to say that you had a letter for me?"

"A letter from your father, that dear, fond father, who dotes so
distractingly upon you, and who really seems to live but to enjoy your
triumphs. Martha, where is the letter?"

"I gave it to Scroope, sister."

"No, you didn't. I never saw--"

"Yes, Scroope, I gave it to you, at the drawing-room fire--"

"Yes, to be sure, and I put it into the ca-ca-ca--"

"Not the candle, I hope," cried Kate, in terror.

"No, into the card-rack; and there it is now."

"How provoking!" cried Miss Ricketts; "but you shall have it to-morrow,
Miss Dalton. I 'll leave it here myself."

"Shall I appear impatient, madam, if I send for it this evening?"

"Of course not, my dear Miss Dalton; but shall I commit the precious
charge to a menial's hand?"

"You may do so with safety, madam," said Kate, not without a slight
irritation of manner as she spoke.

"Mr. Foglass, the late minister and envoy at--"

Here a tremendous crash, followed by a terrific yelping noise, broke in
upon the colloquy; for it was Fidele had thrown down a Sevres jar, and
lay, half-buried and howling, under the ruins. There was, of course, a
general rising of the company, some to rescue the struggling poodle, and
others in vain solicitude to gather up the broken fragments of the once
beautiful vase. It was a favorite object with Lady Hester; of singular
rarity, both for form and design; and Kate stood speechless, and almos