nd no nonsense, was immensely diverting to Nora. To
hide an irrepressible smile, she went over to a bowl of roses which
stood on one of the little tables and pretended to busy herself with
their rearrangement.

"Posts as lady's companions are not so easy to find, I fancy. At least I
remember that when I got this one I was thought to be extremely lucky
not to have to wait twice as long. I don't imagine things have bettered
much in our line, do you?"

"That they have not," rejoined Miss Pringle gloomily. "They tell me the
agents' books are full of people wanting situations. Before I went to
Mrs. Hubbard I was out of one for nearly two years." Her voice shook a
little at the recollection. Her poor, tired, weather-beaten face
quivered as if she were about to cry.

"It's not so had for you," said Nora soothingly. "You can always go and
stay with your brother."

"You've a brother, too."

"Ah, yes. But he's farming in Canada. He has all he could do to keep
himself. He couldn't keep me, too."

"How is he doing now?" asked Miss Pringle, to whom any new topic of
conversation was of interest. She had so little opportunity for
conversation at the irreproachable Mrs. Hubbard's, that lady having
apparently inherited a limited set of ideas from her late husband, 'as
Mr. Hubbard used to say' being her favorite introduction to any topic.
Miss Pringle saw herself making quite a little success at dinner that
night--there was to be a guest, she believed--by saying: "A friend of
mine has just been telling me of the success her brother is having way
out in Canada." "He is getting on?" she asked encouragingly.

"Oh, he's doing very well. He's got a farm of his own. He wrote over a
few years ago and told me he could always give me a home if I wanted
one."

"Canada's so far off," observed Miss Pringle deprecatingly. Her tone
seemed to imply that there were other disadvantages which she would
refrain from mentioning.

Now while Nora had always had the same vague feeling that Canada, in
addition to being an immense distance off, was not quite, well, it
wasn't England--that was indisputable--she found herself unreasonably
irritated by her friend's tone.

"Not when yon get there," she replied sharply.

Miss Pringle evidently deemed it best to change the subject. "Why don't
you draw the blinds?" she asked after a moment.

"It is horrid, isn't it? But somehow I thought I ought to wait till they
came back from the funeral. But just see