won over to familiarity by the kindness of his pastor
in the time of affliction, that when after some weeks Mrs. French
invited the good people to tea, Captain Ball sat manfully at the foot
of his table, and listened with no small pleasure to the delighted
exclamations of the parson's wife over his store of china and glass.
There was a little feeling of guilt when he remembered how many times
in his sister's day he had evaded such pleasant social occasions by
complaint of inward malady, or by staying boldly among the wharves
until long past supper-time, and forcing good Miss Ann to as many
anxious excuses as if her brother's cranky ways were not as well known
to the guests as to herself.

II.

Mrs. Captain Topliff and Miss Miranda Hull were sitting together one
late summer afternoon in Mrs. Topliff's south chamber. They were at
work upon a black dress which was to be made over, and each sat by a
front window with the blinds carefully set ajar.

"This is a real handy room to sew in," said Miranda, who had come
early after dinner for a good long afternoon. "You git the light as
long as there is any; and I do like a straw carpet; I don't feel's if
I made so much work scatterin' pieces."

"Don't you have no concern about pieces," answered Mrs. Topliff,
amiably. "I was precious glad to get you right on the sudden so. You
see, I counted on my other dress lasting me till winter, and sort of
put this by to do at a leisure time. I knew 't wa'n't fit to wear as
't was. Anyway, I've done dealin' with Stover; he told me, lookin' me
right in the eye, that it was as good a wearin' piece o' goods as he
had in the store. 'T was a real cheat; you can put your finger right
through it."

"You've got some wear but of it," ventured Miranda, meekly, bending
over her work. "I made it up quite a spell ago, I know. Six or seven
years, ain't it, Mis' Topliff?"

"Yes, to be sure," replied Mrs. Topliff, with suppressed indignation;
"but this we're to work on I had before the Centennial. I know I
wouldn't take it to Philadelphy because 't was too good. An' the first
two or three years of a dress don't count. You know how 't is; you
just wear 'em to meetin' a pleasant Sunday, or to a funeral, p'r'aps,
an' keep 'em in a safe cluset meanwhiles."

"Goods don't wear as 't used to," agreed Miranda; "but 't is all the
better for my trade. Land! there's some dresses in this town I'm sick
o' bein' called on to make good's new. Now I call you re