my books) you could almost
forgive it to them, they were so plausible and polite about it. Eighty
dollars a month was what one family took out in the best meats
procurable and 'ow could you refuse it, knowing they were not going to
run away owing it! 'Some day, Mr. Enderby,' they would say, 'you shall
have it. You shall 'ave it, sir, some day.'"

"And did you ever get it?" said a thin woman, the Hawthorne milliner,
edging to the front of the group in some anxiety. "Did you?"

"I did, ma'am. They owned considerable property round about there, and
when they wanted anything they would sell off a little, piece by piece.
Just as they needed things they sold it, and by and by they came to me
and my little account was paid off--honourable."

"All at once?" said the anxious woman, and Enderby nodded.

"What a state of things though!" remarked his wife. "I remember it
quite distinctly. When they wanted to give a party they would sell off
a piece of land, or when they needed a new carpet. 'Twould make me so
nervous like."

"So it would me," said the milliner, "so it would me."

"Because you were not born to it. It's what you must expect from the
gentry."

"Gentry? There's not many around here, but I recognize them when I
meet them and the lady at the Manor House is one of them and I'm sorry
for her, ma'am, in her disappointment and sickness."

"Who is that you are sorry for, Enderby?" said Mrs. Abercorn shrilly,
having caught some of his remarks. "And how do you come to be talking
about gentry of all things! My good man, if you are alluding to Miss
Clairville, let me tell you she got just what she deserved."

And directly a chorus arose, chiefly from the feminine voices present:
"Just what she deserved. She got just what she deserved."

The state of affairs at Clairville was much as described; Pauline,
during her long, dreary convalescence, gave no sign of temper or of
suffering, but had apparently changed to a listless, weak, silent
creature, occupied almost altogether with her own thoughts, by turns
ignoring and passively tolerating her sister-in-law and the child. The
latter grew brighter and stronger every day, and Dr. Renaud was of the
opinion that she would live to womanhood and become physically fit in
many ways, although retaining her deformity, and even achieve some
professional success, as her talent for the pencil was of unusual
order. Sadie Cordova and her children were firmly established at