wson's thin lips wreathed themselves into bright smiles of
welcome, whilst the foul demon took possession of her soul. Mrs.
Thompson's dress was of the most costly French satin, whilst hers was
merely British manufacture. They had been old school companions and
rivals in their girlish days. During the first years of the married
life of each, Mrs. Lawson had outshone Mrs. Thompson in every respect;
but now the eclipsed star beamed brightly and scornfully beside the
clouds which had rolled over her rival. Mrs. Thompson was, in face
and figure, in dress and speech, the very impersonation of vulgar and
ostentatious wealth.

"My goodness, it's so hot!" she said, loosening the fastening of
her bonnet, the delicate French blond and white satin and plume,
of which that fabric was composed, contrasting rather painfully at
the same time with her flushed mahogany-colored complexion, and
ungracefully-formed features. "Bless me, I'm so glad we'll get off to
our country-house to-morrow. It's so very delightful, Mrs. Lawson, to
have a country residence to go to. Goodness me, what a close room,
and such a hot, dusty street. It does just look so queer to me after
Fitzherbert-square."

To this Mrs. Lawson made a response as composed as she could; she
would have retorted bitterly and violently, but her husband had a
connection with the Thompson establishment, and for strong reasons she
considered it prudent to refrain from quarreling with Mrs. Thompson.
She therefore spoke but very little, and Mrs. Thompson was left at
full liberty to give a lengthened detail of Mr. Thompson's great
wealth and her own great profusion. She began first with herself, and
furnished an exact detail of all the fine things she had purchased
in the last month, down to the latest box of pins. Next, her babies
occupied her for half an hour--the quantity of chicken they
consumed, and the number of frocks they soiled per diem were minutely
chronicled. Then her house came under consideration: she depicted
the bright glory of the new _ponceau_ furniture, as contrasted with
shocking old faded things--and she glanced significantly toward Mrs.
Lawson's sofas and chairs. Next she made a discursive detour to the
culinary department, and gave a statement of the number of stones of
lump sugar she was getting boiled in preserves, and of the days of the
week in which they had puddings, and the days they had pies at dinner.

"But, Mrs. Lawson dear, have you seen old Mr. Lawso