sion. Mrs Clarissa was whatever she
found it the fashion to be. As to Mrs Dorothy, she held private
opinions, but she never allowed them to appear, well knowing that they
would be far from acceptable to Madam. And since Mrs Dorothy was
sometimes constrained unwillingly to differ from Madam on points which
she deemed essential, she was careful not to vex her on subjects which
she considered indifferent.

Rhoda was rather disappointed to find that Phoebe showed no astonished
admiration of Tewkesbury Abbey. She forgot that the Abbey Church at
Bath, and Saint Mary Redcliffe at Bristol, had been familiar to Phoebe
from her infancy. The porch was lined with beggars, who showered
blessings upon Madam, in grateful anticipation of shillings to come.
But Madam passed grandly on, and paid no attention to them.

The church and the service were about equally chilly. Being a fast-day,
the organ was silent; but all the responding was left to the choir, the
congregation seemingly supposing it as little their concern as Cupid
thought it his--who curled himself up comfortably, and went to sleep.
The gentlemen appeared to be amusing themselves by staring at the
ladies; the ladies either returned the compliment slily behind their
fans, or exchanged courtesies with each other. There was a long, long
bidding prayer, and a sermon which might have been fitly prefaced by the
announcement, "Let us talk to the praise and glory of Charles the
First!" It was over at last. The gentlemen put down their eye-glasses,
the ladies yawned and furled their fans; there was a great deal of
bowing, and courtesying, and complimenting--Mr William informing Mrs
Betty that the sun had come out solely to do her honour, and Mrs Betty
retorting with a delicate blow from her fan, and, "What a mad fellow are
you!" At last these also were over; and the ladies from Cressingham
remounted the family coach, nearly in the same order as they came--the
variation being that Phoebe found herself seated opposite Mrs Clarissa
Vane.

"Might I pat him?" said Phoebe, diffidently.

"If you want to be bit, do!" snapped Mrs Jane.

"Oh deah, yes!" languishingly responded Mrs Clarissa. "He neveh bites,
does 'e, the pwetty deah!"

"Heyday! Doesn't 'e, the pwetty deah!" observed Mrs Jane, in such
exact imitation of her friend's affected tones as sorely to try Phoebe's
gravity.

Lady Betty laughed openly, but added, "Mind what you are about, child."

"Poor doggie!" soft