ver could teach you,--that, and the
Catechism."

"What a libel!" says Clarissa. "I shouldn't malign my own teaching if
I were you. I am perfectly certain I could say it all now, this very
moment, from start to finish, questions and all, without a mistake.
Shall I?"

"No, no. I'll take your word for it," says the vicar, hastily. "The
fact is, I have just been listening to it at the morning school in the
village, and when one has heard a thing repeated fourteen times with
variations, one naturally is not ambitious of hearing it again, no
matter how profitable it may be."

"When I spoke of filling Charlotte's place," says Clarissa, "I did not
allude in any way to myself, but to----And now I am coming to my
news."

"So glad!" says the vicar; "I may overtake old Betty yet."

"I have secured a governess for Mrs. Redmond. Such a dear little
governess! And I want you to promise me to be more than usually kind
to her, because she is young and friendless and it is her first effort
at teaching."

"So that question is settled at last," says the vicar, with a deep--if
carefully suppressed--sigh of relief. "I am rejoiced, if only for my
wife's sake, who has been worrying herself for weeks past, trying to
replace the inestimable--if somewhat depressing--Miss Prood."

"Has she?" says Clarissa, kindly. "Worry is a bad thing. But to-day
Mrs. Redmond seems much better than she has been for a long time.
Indeed, she said so."

"Did she?" says the vicar, with a comical, transient smile, Mrs.
Redmond's maladies being of the purely imaginary order.

"What are you laughing at now?" asks Clarissa, who has marked this
passing gleam of amusement.

"At you, my dear, you are so quaintly humorous," replies he. "But go
on: tell me of this new acquisition to our household. Is she a friend
of yours?"

"Yes, a great friend."

"Then of course we shall like her."

"Thank you," says Clarissa. "She is very pretty, and very charming.
Perhaps, after all, I am doing a foolish thing for myself. How shall I
feel when she has cut me out at the vicarage?"

"Not much fear of that, were she Aphrodite herself. You are much too
good a child to be liked lightly or by halves. Well, good-by: you
won't forget about the flannel for the Batley twins?"

"I have it ready,--at least, half of it. How could I tell she was
going to have twins," says Clarissa, apologetically.

"It certainly was very inconsiderate of her," says the vicar, with a
sigh, as he th