salt, pepper, vinegar, mustard, ginger, spices, eggs, lard, meal,
and the dear knows what all, that go out monthly, but never come
back again. I verily believe we suffer through Mrs. Jordon's habit
of borrowing not less than fifty or sixty dollars a year. Little
things like these count up."

"So bad as that, is it?" said my husband.

"Indeed it is; and when she returns anything, it is almost always of
an inferior quality, and frequently thrown away on that account."

While we were talking, the tea bell rang, and we retired to the
dining-room.

"What's the matter with this tea?" asked Mr. Smith, pushing the cup
I had handed him aside, after leaving sipped of its contents. "I
never tasted such stuff. It's like herb tea."

"It must be something in the water," replied I. "The tea is the same
we have been using all along."

I poured some into a cup and tasted it.

"Pah!" I said, with disgust, and rang the bell. The cook entered in
a few moments.

"Bridget, what's the matter with your tea? It isn't fit to drink. Is
it the same we have been using?"

"No, ma'am," replied Bridget. "It is some Mrs. Jordon sent home. I
reminded Nancy, when she was here for butter, that they owed us some
tea, borrowed day before yesterday, and she came right back with it,
saying that Mrs. Jordon was sorry it had slipped her mind. I thought
I would draw it by itself, and not mix it with the tea in our
canister."

"You can throw this out and draw fresh tea, Bridget; we can't drink
it," said I, handing her the tea-pot.

"You see how it works," I remarked as Bridget left the room, and my
husband leaned back in his chair to wait for a fresh cup of tea.
"One half of the time, when anything is returned, we can't use it.
The butter Mrs. Jordon got a little while ago, if returned
to-morrow, will not be fit to go on our table. We can only use it
for cooking."

"It isn't right," sententiously remarked my husband. "The fact is,"
he resumed, after a slight pause, "I wouldn't lend such a woman
anything. It is a downright imposition."

"It is a very easy thing to say that, Mr. Smith. But I am not
prepared to do it. I don't believe Mrs. Jordon means to do wrong, or
is really conscious that she is trespassing upon us. Some people
don't reflect. Otherwise she is a pleasant neighbor, and I like her
very much. It is want of proper thought, Mr. Smith, and nothing
else."

"If a man kept treading on my gouty toe for want of thought," said
my husban