mond's who had come to
spend the day. "You know," said the visitor, "I never could like Mr.
Percival Thorne as much as--"

Sissy paused on the threshold, and Miss Hammond stopped short. The
color mounted to her wintry cheek, and she contrived to find an
opportunity to apologize a little later: "I beg your pardon, my dear,
for my thoughtless remark just as you came in. I know so little that
my opinion was worthless. I really beg your pardon."

"What for?" said Sissy. "For what you said about Percival Thorne? My
dear Miss Hammond, people can't be expected to remember _that_. Why,
we agreed that it should be all over and done with at least a hundred
years ago." She spoke with hurried bravery.

The old lady looked at her and held out her hands: "My dear, is the
time always so long since you parted?"

Sissy put the proffered hands airily aside and scoffed at the idea.
They had a crowd of callers that afternoon, but the girl lingered
more than once by Miss Hammond's side and paid her delicate little
attentions. This perplexed young Garnett very much when he had
ascertained from one of the company that the old woman had nothing but
an annuity of three hundred a year. He hoped that Sissy Langton wasn't
a little queer, but, upon his word, it looked like it.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A WELSH WATERING-PLACE.

On the eastern shore of that stretch of land which forms the extreme
south-western point of Wales stands the stony little seaport town
of Tenby. It is an old, old town, rich in historical legends, an
important place in the twelfth century and down to Queen Elizabeth's
reign. Soon after her time it fell into woeful decay, and for years
of whose number there is no record Tenby existed as a poor
fishing-village and mourned its departed glories. That it would ever
again be a place of interest to anybody but people of fishy pursuits
was an idea Tenby did not entertain concerning itself; but, lo! in the
present century there arose a custom among genteel folk of going down
to the sea in bathing-machines. It was discovered that Tenby was a
spot favored of Neptune (or whatever god or goddess regulates the
matter of surf-bathing), and Tenby was taken down from the shelf, as
it were, dusted, mended and set on its legs again. The fashionables
smiled on it. Away off in the depths of wild Wales the knowing few set
up their select and choice summer abode, and vaunted its being so
far away from home; for Tenby was farther from Lo