erved Mrs Dorothy.

"Well, he is," said Rhoda, scarcely perceiving the satire latent in Mrs
Dorothy's calm tones.

"I am glad to hear it, my dear," returned the old lady.

"But he's very uppish,--that's pos.," resumed the young one.

"Really, my dear, you are full of new words," said Mrs Dorothy,
good-naturedly. "What means `pos.,' pray you?"

"Why, `positive,'" said Rhoda, laughing. "And _rep._ means reputation,
and _fire_ means spirit, and _smart_ means sharp, and a _concert_ means
a lot of people singing and playing on instruments of music, and an
_operation_ means anything you do, and a _speculation_ means--well, it
means--it means a speculation, you know."

"Dear, dear!" cried little Mrs Dorothy, holding up her hands. "I
protest, my dear, I shall be drove to learn the English tongue anew if
this mode go on."

"Well, Mrs Dolly, suppose your tale should go on?" suggested Rhoda.
"Heyday! do you know what everybody is saying?--everybody that is
anybody, you understand."

"I thought that everybody was somebody," remarked Mrs Dorothy, with a
comical set of the lips.

"Oh dear, no!" said Rhoda. "There are ever so many people who are
nobody."

"Indeed!" said Mrs Dorothy. "Well, child, what is everybody saying?"

"Why, they say the Duke is not so well with the Queen as he has been.
'Tis thought, I assure you, by many above people."

"Is that one of the new words?" inquired Mrs Dorothy, with a little
laugh. "Dear child, what mean you?--the angels?"

"Oh, Mrs Dorothy, you are the oddest creature!" cried Rhoda. "Why, you
know very well what I mean. Should you be sorry, Mrs Dolly, if the
Duke became inconsiderable?"

"No, my dear. Why should I?"

"Well, I thought--" but Rhoda's thought went no further.

"You thought," quietly continued the old lady, "that I had not had enow
of town vanities, and would fain climb a few rungs up the ladder,
holding on to folks' skirts. Was that it, child?"

"Well, I don't know," said Rhoda uneasily, for Mrs Dorothy had
translated her thought into rather too plain language.

"Ah, my dear, that is because you would love to climb a little
yourself," said Mrs Dorothy, smilingly, "and you apprehend no
inconveniency from it. But, child, 'tis the weariest work in all the
world--except it be climbing from earth to heaven. To climb on men's
ladders is mostly as a squirrel climbs in its cage,--round and round;
you think yourself going vastly higher, but those that stand o