_coiffure_ "enough to frighten the French away," as her aunt told her.

It was while this young lady was getting more noise out of Mrs. Dunmaw's
red silk and rosewood piano than had been shaken out of it during the
last thirty years, that the lawyer brought his cup of coffee to Miss
Betty's side, and said, suavely, "I here wonderful accounts of
Lingborough, dear Miss Betty."

"I am thankful to say, sir, that the farm is doing well this year. I am
very thankful, for the past few years have been unfavourable, and we had
begun to face the fact that it might be necessary to sell the old place.
And I will not deny, sir, that it would have gone far to break my heart,
to say nothing of my sister Kitty's."

"Oh, we shouldn't have let it come to that," said the lawyer, "I could
have raised a loan--"

"Sir," said Miss Betty with dignity, "if we have our own pride, I hope
it's an honest one. Lingborough will have passed out of our family when
it's kept up on borrowed money."

"I _could_ live in lodgings," added Miss Betty, firmly, "little as I've
been accustomed to it, but _not in debt_."

"Well, well, my dear madam, we needn't talk about it now. But I'm dying
of curiosity as to the mainstay of all this good luck."

"The turnips--" began Miss Betty.

"Bless my soul, Miss Betty!" cried the lawyer, "I'm not talking of
turnips. I'm talking of Lob Lie-by-the-fire, as all the country side is
for that matter."

"The country people have plenty of tales of him," said Miss Betty, with
some pride in the family goblin. "He used to haunt the old barns, they
say, in my great-grandfather's time."

"And now you've got him back again," said the lawyer.

"Not that I know of," said Miss Betty.

On which the lawyer poured into her astonished ear all the latest news
on the subject, and if it had lost nothing before reaching his house in
the town, it rather gained in marvels as he repeated it to Miss Betty.

No wonder that the little lady was anxious to get home to question
Thomasina, and that somewhat before the usual hour she said,--

"Sister Kitty, if it's not too soon for the servant--"

And the parson, threading his way to where Mrs. Dunmaw's china crape
shawl (dyed crimson) shone in the bow window, said, "The clergy should
keep respectable hours, madam; especially when they are as old as I am.
Will you allow me to thank you for a very pleasant evening, and to say
good night?"

THE PARSON AND THE LUBBER-FIEND.

"Do you