ment fixed
for Besworth Lawn by Mr. Pericles, looked down. They were invited, and
looked up. There was the usual amount of fencing with the combative
Laura, who gave ground at all points, and as she was separating, said
(so sweetly!) "Of course you have heard of the arrest of your--what does
one call him?--friend?--or a French word?"

"You mean?" quoth Arabella.

"That poor, neatly brushed, nice creature whom you patronized--who
played the organ!" she jerked to Arabella's dubious eyes.

"And he?" Arabella smiled, complacently.

"Then perhaps you may know that all is arranged for him?" said Laura,
interpreting by the look more than the word, after a habit of women.

"Indeed, to tell you the truth, I know nothing," said Arabella.

"Really?" Laura turned sharply to Cornelia, who met her eyes and did not
exhibit one weak dimple.

The story was, that Mr. Chips, the Bookseller of Hillford, objected to
the departure of Mr. Barrett, until Mr. Barrett had paid the bill of Mr.
Chips: and had signified his objection in the form of a writ. "When,
if you know anything of law," said Laura, "you will see why he remains.
For, a writ once served, you are a prisoner. That is, I believe, if it's
above twenty pounds. And Mr. Chips' bill against Mr. Barrett was, I have
heard, twenty-three pounds and odd shillings. Could anything be more
preposterous? And Mr. Chips deserves to lose his money!"

Ah! to soar out of such a set as this, of which Laura Tinley is a
sample, are not some trifling acts of inhumanity and practices in the
art of 'cutting' permissible? So the ladies had often asked of the
Unseen in their onward course, if they did not pointedly put the
question now. Surely they had no desire to give pain, but the nature
that endowed them with a delicate taste, inspired them to defend it.
They listened gravely to Laura, who related that not only English books,
but foreign (repeated and emphasized), had been supplied by Mr. Chips to
Mr. Barrett.

They were in the library, and Laura's eyes rested on certain yellow and
blue covers of books certainly not designed for the reading of Mr. Pole.

"I think you must be wrong as to Mr. Barrett's position," said Adela.

"No, dear; not at all," Laura was quick to reply. "Unless you know
anything. He has stated that he awaits money remittances. He has, in
fact, overrun the constable, and my brother Albert says, the constable
is very likely to overrun ham, in consequence. Only a joke! But