t gravity.

"So I've 'eerd--yisss, sir," said Miss Lining; "and there's something of
the same in them pills that's spoke so well of in your magazine, sir, I
think. I sent by the carrier for a box, sir, on Saturday last, and would
have done sooner, but for waiting for Mrs. Barker to pay for the
pelerine I made out of her uncle's funeral scarf. Yisss, misss."

Jack was very seldom at a loss, but on this occasion he seemed puzzled.

"Pills recommended in our magazine?" he said, as we strolled up towards
the Vicarage. "It's those medical tracts you and Eleanor have been
taking round lately."

"There's nothing about pills in them," said I. "They're about drains,
and fresh air, and cleanliness. Besides, she said our magazine."

"We don't give them any magazine but the _Parishioner's Pennyworth_ and
the missionary one," said Jack. "I'm stumped, Margery."

But in a few minutes I was startled by his seizing me by the shoulders
and leaning against me in a paroxysm of laughter.

"Oh, Margery, I've got it! It _is_ the _Parishioner's Pennyworth_.
There's been an advertisement at the end of it for months, like a
fly-leaf, of Norton's chamomile pills."

And as I unravelled to Eleanor the mystery of our dressmaking
difficulties, we could hear Jack convulsing Mrs. Arkwright with a
perfect reproduction of Miss Lining's accent--"Them pills that's spoke
so well of in your magazine. Yisss, m'm."

We got some more material, and finished the dresses triumphantly. By the
next summer we were skilful enough to use our taste with some freedom
and good success.

I was then fifteen, and in long dresses. I remember some most tasteful
costumes which we produced; and as we contemplated them as they hung,
flounced, furbelowed, and finished, upon pegs, Eleanor said:

"I wonder where we shall display these this year?"

How little we knew! We had made the dresses alike, to the nicety of a
bow, because we thought it ladylike that the costumes of sisters should
be so. How far we were from guessing that they would not be worn
together after all!

CHAPTER XXVIII.

I GO BACK TO THE VINE--AFTER SUNSET--A TWILIGHT EXISTENCE--SALAD OF
MONK'S-HOOD--A ROYAL SUMMONS.

The few marked events of my life have generally happened on my
birthdays. It was on my fifteenth birthday that Mr. Arkwright got a
letter from one of my relations on the subject of my going to live with
my great-grandfather and grandmother.

They were now very old. My great-