th a shawl
over her head, entered, nodding a curt and precise good-evening, first
to Mr. Ducklow, then to his wife.

"What, that you?" said Mrs. Ducklow, with curiosity and surprise. "Where
on 'arth did you come from? Set her a chair, why don't ye, father?"

Mr. Ducklow, who was busy slipping his feet into a pair of old shoes,
hastened to comply with the hospitable suggestion.

"I've only jest got home," said he, apologetically, as if fearful lest
the fact of his being caught in his stocking-feet should create
suspicions: so absurdly careful of appearances some people become, when
they have anything to conceal. "Jest had time to kick my boots off, you
see. Take a seat."

"Thank ye. I s'pose you'll think I'm wild, makin' calls at this hour!"

And Miss Beswick seated herself, with an angular movement, and held
herself prim and erect in the chair.

"Why, no, I don't," said Mrs. Ducklow, civilly; while at the same time
she did think it very extraordinary and unwarrantable conduct on the
part of her neighbor to be walking the streets and entering the
dwellings of honest people, alone, after eight o'clock, on a dark night.

"You're jest in time to set up and take a cup o' tea with my husband":
an invitation she knew would not be accepted, and which she pressed
accordingly. "Ye better, Miss Beswick, if only to keep him company. Take
yer things, won't ye?"

"No, I don't go a-visitin', to take off my things and drink tea, this
time o' night!"

Miss Beswick condescended, however, to throw back the shawl from her
head, exposing to view a long, sinewy neck, the strong lines of which
ran up into her cheeks, and ramified into wrinkles, giving severity to
her features. At the same time emerged from the fold of the garment, as
it were, a knob, a high, bare poll, so lofty and narrow, and destitute
of the usual ornament, natural or false, that you involuntarily looked
twice, to assure yourself that it was really that lovely and adorable
object, a female head.

"I've jest run over to tell you the news," said Miss Beswick.

"Nothing bad, I hope?" said Mrs. Ducklow. "No robbers in town? for massy
sake!" And Mrs. Ducklow laid her hand on her bosom, to make sure that
the bonds were still there.

"No, good news,--good for Sophrony, at any rate!"

"Ah! she has heard from Reuben?"

"No!" The severity of the features was modified by a grim smile. "No!"
and the little, high knob of a head was shaken expressively.

"What then?" D