her early.
Miss Arabella is setting her cap at him with a vengeance. But I don't
think he's much smitten. I've a notion Ely's engaged to some one at a
distance, and will astonish all the ladies who are languishing for him
here, by bringing home his bride one of these days. Ely's a sly dog;
he'll like that.'

'Did the Farquhars say anything about the singing last Sunday?'

'Yes; Farquhar said he thought it was time there was some improvement in
the choir. But he was rather scandalized at my setting the tune of
"Lydia." He says he's always hearing it as he passes the Independent
meeting.' Here Mr. Barton laughed--he had a way of laughing at criticisms
that other people thought damaging--and thereby showed the remainder of a
set of teeth which, like the remnants of the Old Guard, were few in
number, and very much the worse for wear. 'But,' he continued, 'Mrs.
Farquhar talked the most about Mr. Bridmain and the Countess. She has
taken up all the gossip about them, and wanted to convert me to her
opinion, but I told her pretty strongly what I thought.'

'Dear me! why will people take so much pains to find out evil about
others? I have had a note from the Countess since you went, asking us to
dine with them on Friday.'

Here Mrs. Barton reached the note from the mantelpiece, and gave it to
her husband. We will look over his shoulder while he reads it:--

"Sweetest Milly, Bring your lovely face with your husband to dine with us
on Friday at seven--do. If not, I will be sulky with you till Sunday,
when I shall be obliged to see you, and shall long to kiss you that very
moment. Yours, according to your answer,

Caroline Czerlaski."

'Just like her, isn't it?' said Mrs. Barton. 'I suppose we can go?'

'Yes; I have no engagement. The Clerical Meeting is tomorrow, you know.'

'And, dear, Woods the butcher called, to say he must have some money next
week. He has a payment to make up.'

This announcement made Mr. Barton thoughtful. He puffed more rapidly, and
looked at the fire.

'I think I must ask Hackit to lend me twenty pounds, for it is nearly two
months till Lady-day, and we can't give Woods our last shilling.'

'I hardly like you to ask Mr. Hackit, dear--he and Mrs. Hackit have been
so very kind to us; they have sent us so many things lately.'

'Then I must ask Oldinport. I'm going to write to him tomorrow morning,
for to tell him the arrangement I've been thinking of about having
service in the workhouse while