f Omnium. She was a tall, thin,
shrivelled-up old woman,--not very old, fifty perhaps, but looking
at least ten years more,--very melancholy, and sometimes very cross.
She had been notably religious, but that was gradually wearing off as
she advanced in years. The rigid strictness of Sabbatarian practice
requires the full energy of middle life. She had been left entirely
alone in the world, with a very small income, and not many friends
who were in any way interested in her existence. But she knew herself
to be Lady Rosina De Courcy, and felt that the possession of that
name ought to be more to her than money and friends, or even than
brothers and sisters. "The weather is not frightening you," said the
Duke. Snow had fallen, and the paths, even where they had been swept,
were wet and sloppy.

"Weather never frightens me, your Grace. I always have thick
boots;--I am very particular about that;--and cork soles."

"Cork soles are admirable."

"I think I owe my life to cork soles," said Lady Rosina
enthusiastically. "There is a man named Sprout in Silverbridge who
makes them. Did your Grace ever try him for boots?"

"I don't think I ever did," said the Prime Minister.

"Then you had better. He's very good and very cheap too. Those London
tradesmen never think they can charge you enough. I find I can wear
Sprout's boots the whole winter through and then have them resoled. I
don't suppose you ever think of such things?"

"I like to have my feet dry."

"I have got to calculate what they cost." They then passed Major
Pountney, who was coming and going between the stables and the house,
and who took off his hat and who saluted the host and his companion
with perhaps more flowing courtesy than was necessary. "I never have
found out what that gentleman's name is yet," said Lady Rosina.

"Pountney, I think. I believe they call him Major Pountney."

"Oh, Pountney! There are Pountneys in Leicestershire. Perhaps he is
one of them?"

"I don't know where he comes from," said the Duke,--"nor, to tell
the truth, where he goes to." Lady Rosina looked up at him with an
interested air. "He seems to be one of those idle men who get into
people's houses heaven knows why, and never do anything."

"I suppose you asked him?" said Lady Rosina.

"The Duchess did, I dare say."

"How odd it would be if she were to suppose that you had asked him."

"The Duchess, no doubt, knows all about it." Then there was a little
pause. "She is ob