gricola, "was, that the young lady,
on seeing her little dog, did not forget me for it, as many would
have done in her place, and took no notice of it before me. That shows
delicacy and feeling, does it not? Indeed, I believe this young lady to
be so kind and generous, that I should not hesitate to have recourse to
her in any important case."

"Yes, you are right," replied the sempstress, more and more absent.

The poor girl suffered extremely. She felt no jealousy, no hatred,
towards this young stranger, who, from her beauty, wealth, and delicacy,
seemed to belong to a sphere too splendid and elevated to be even
within the reach of a work, girl's vision; but, making an involuntary
comparison of this fortunate condition with her own, the poor thing had
never felt more cruelly her deformity and poverty. Yet such were the
humility and gentle resignation of this noble creature, that the only
thing which made her feel ill-disposed towards Adrienne de Cardoville
was the offer of the purse to Agricola; but then the charming way in
which the young lady had atoned for her error, affected the sempstress
deeply. Yet her heart was ready to break. She could not restrain her
tears as she contemplated the magnificent flower--so rich in color and
perfume, which, given by a charming hand, was doubtless very precious to
Agricola.

"Now, mother," resumed the young man smilingly, and unaware of the
painful emotion of the other bystander, "you have had the cream of my
adventures first. I have told you one of the causes of my delay; and now
for the other. Just now, as I was coming in, I met the dyer at the foot
of the stairs, his arms a beautiful pea-green. Stopping me he said, with
an air full of importance, that he thought he had seen a chap sneaking
about the house like a spy, 'Well, what is that to you, Daddy Loriot?'
said I: 'are you afraid he will nose out the way to make the beautiful
green, with which you are dyed up to the very elbows?'"

"But who could that man be, Agricola?" said Frances.

"On my word, mother, I don't know and scarcely care; I tried to persuade
Daddy Loriot, who chatters like a magpie, to return to his cellar, since
it could signify as little to him as to me, whether a spy watched him
or not." So saying, Agricola went and placed the little leathern sack,
containing his wages, on a shelf, in the cupboard.

As Frances put down the saucepan on the end of the table, Mother Bunch,
recovering from her reverie, fi