a means of living
with some satisfaction.'

'What chance is there that this girl will marry suitably?'

'Oh, who knows? At all events, there will be more likelihood of it if
she comes into our sphere.'

'Really? Do you know any man that would dream of marrying her?'

'Perhaps not, at present.'

It was clear that Miss Barfoot stood in some danger of becoming
subordinate to her more vehement friend. Her little body, for all its
natural dignity, put her at a disadvantage in the presence of Rhoda,
who towered above her with rather imperious stateliness. Her suavity
was no match for Rhoda's vigorous abruptness. But the two were very
fond of each other, and by this time thought themselves able safely to
dispense with the forms at first imposed by their mutual relations.

'If she marry at all,' declared Miss Nunn, 'she will marry badly. The
family is branded. They belong to the class we know so well--with no
social position, and unable to win an individual one. I must find a
name for that ragged regiment.'

Miss Barfoot regarded her friend thoughtfully.

'Rhoda, what comfort have you for the poor in spirit?'

'None whatever, I'm afraid. My mission is not to them.'

After a pause, she added,--

'They have their religious faith, I suppose; and it's answerable for a
good deal.'

'It would be a terrible responsibility to rob them of it,' remarked the
elder woman gravely.

Rhoda made a gesture of impatience.

'It's a terrible responsibility to do anything at all. But I'm
glad'--she laughed scornfully--'that it's not my task to release them.'

Mary Barfoot mused, a compassionate shadow on her fine face.

'I don't think we can do without the spirit of that religion,' she said
at length--'the essential human spirit. These poor women--one ought to
be very tender with them. I don't like your "ragged regiment" phrase.
When I grow old and melancholy, I think I shall devote myself to poor
hopeless and purposeless women--try to warm their hearts a little
before they go hence.'

'Admirable!' murmured Rhoda, smiling. 'But in the meantime they cumber
us; we have to fight.'

She threw forward her arms, as though with spear and buckler. Miss
Barfoot was smiling at this Palladin attitude when a servant announced
two ladies--Mrs. Smallbrook and Miss Haven. They were aunt and niece;
the former a tall, ungainly, sharp-featured widow; the later a
sweet-faced, gentle, sensible-looking girl of five-and-twenty.

'I am so glad yo