ber of plaits to
an inch, and all of the same width to a thread. Still she did not
speak.

Mrs Latrobe required no words to inform her of what was passing in
Rhoda's mind. But she forestalled any words which might have come, by
an affectation of misunderstanding her.

"You see, my dear Rhoda," she said, in a would-be affectionate tone, "I
am bound to do all I can for my only sister's only child. I would not
do you so much injury as to suppose you insensible to the kindness I
have shown you. Indeed, if you had been something younger, and had
wished to learn any trade, I would willingly have paid the premium with
you. And 'tis no slight matter, I can assure you. Eighty pounds would
have been the least for which I could have put you with a milliner or
mantua-maker, to learn her trade. But, however, 'tis no good talking of
that, for you are a good nine years too old. So there is nothing before
you but service, without you marry, or to take my Lady Betty's house.
Now, my dear, you may go and divert yourself; we will not talk of this
matter again till the young gentlewomen have ended their visit."

And with a nod of dismissal, Mrs Latrobe rose and passed out of the
room, evidently considering her duties exceeded by her merits, and
leaving Rhoda too stunned for words.

Trade, indeed! If there could be a deeper depth than the Maidens'
Lodge, it was trade, in Rhoda's eyes. Domestic service was incomparably
more respectable and honourable. As to matrimony, which her aunt had,
as it were, flung into the scales as she passed, Rhoda's heart was still
too sore to think of it.

An hour later brought Betty and Molly.

"How do you, Rhoda, dear?" inquired the former, kindly.

"Well!--got over it, Red Currants?" interrogated Molly.

"Over what, I beg?" said Rhoda, rather haughtily.

Molly sang her answer:--

"`I lost my looks, I lost my health,
I lost my wit--my love kept true;
But one fine day I lost my wealth,
And, presto! off my lover flew.'

"Isn't that about it, old Tadpole?"

"Your's hasn't," retorted Rhoda, carrying the attack into the enemy's
country.

"No; I haven't lost my wealth yet," said Molly, gravely for her.

"Who told you?" whispered Phoebe.

"O Gemini! isn't that a good jest?" responded Molly, not at all in a
whisper. "`Who told me?'--just as if three hundred and sixty-five
people hadn't told me. Told me more jokes than one, too, Mrs Phoebe
Latrobe; told me how _you_ sent off Mas