h ladies--God bless them!--sometimes bestow on each other
with unnecessary prodigality, to the great discontent and envy of the
male spectators.

"You are fluttered, my dearest Clara--you are feverish--I am sure you
are," continued the sweetly anxious Lady Penelope; "let me persuade you
to lie down."

"Indeed you are mistaken, Lady Penelope," said Miss Mowbray, who seemed
to receive much as a matter of course her ladyship's profusion of
affectionate politeness:--"I am heated, and my pony trotted hard, that
is the whole mystery.--Let me have a cup of tea, Mrs. Jones, and the
matter is ended."

"Fresh tea, Jones, directly," said Lady Penelope, and led her passive
friend to her own corner, as she was pleased to call the recess, in
which she held her little court--ladies and gentlemen curtsying and
bowing as she passed; to which civilities the new guest made no more
return, than the most ordinary politeness rendered unavoidable.

Lady Binks did not rise to receive her, but sat upright in her chair,
and bent her head very stiffly; a courtesy which Miss Mowbray returned
in the same stately manner, without farther greeting on either side.

"Now, wha can that be, Doctor?" said the Widow Blower--"mind ye have
promised to tell me all about the grand folk--wha can that be that Leddy
Penelope hauds such a racket wi'?--and what for does she come wi' a
habit and a beaver-hat, when we are a' (a glance at her own gown) in our
silks and satins?"

"To tell you who she is, my dear Mrs. Blower, is very easy," said the
officious Doctor. "She is Miss Clara Mowbray, sister to the Lord of the
Manor--the gentleman who wears the green coat, with an arrow on the
cape. To tell why she wears that habit, or does any thing else, would be
rather beyond doctor's skill. Truth is, I have always thought she was a
little--a very little--touched--call it nerves--hypochondria--or what
you will."

"Lord help us, puir thing!" said the compassionate widow.--"And troth it
looks like it. But it's a shame to let her go loose, Doctor--she might
hurt hersell, or somebody. See, she has ta'en the knife!--O, it's only
to cut a shave of the diet-loaf. She winna let the powder-monkey of a
boy help her. There's judgment in that though, Doctor, for she can cut
thick or thin as she likes.--Dear me! she has not taken mair than a
crumb, than ane would pit between the wires of a canary-bird's cage,
after all.--I wish she would lift up that lang veil, or put off that
r