he way. I think she would like to shrink up to
the size of a mouse, that she might run about and do people good without
their noticing her.'

'It isn't patience I want, God knows; it's lungs to speak loud enough.
But you'll be at home yourself, I suppose, this morning; and you can talk
to her for me.'

'No, mammy; I promised poor Mrs. Lowme to go and sit with her. She's
confined to her room, and both the Miss Lowmes are out; so I'm going to
read the newspaper to her and amuse her.'

'Couldn't you go another morning? As Mr. Armstrong and that other
gentleman are coming to dinner, I should think it would be better to stay
at home. Can you trust Betty to see to everything? She's new to the
place.'

'O I couldn't disappoint Mrs. Lowme; I promised her. Betty will do very
well, no fear.'

Old Mrs. Dempster was silent after this, and began to sip her tea. The
breakfast went on without further conversation for some time, Mr.
Dempster being absorbed in the papers. At length, when he was running
over the advertisements, his eye seemed to be caught by something that
suggested a new thought to him. He presently thumped the table with an
air of exultation, and, said turning to Janet,--'I've a capital idea,
Gypsy!' (that was his name for his dark-eyed wife when he was in an
extraordinarily good humour), 'and you shall help me. It's just what
you're up to.'

'What is it?' said Janet, her face beaming at the sound of the pet name,
now heard so seldom. 'Anything to do with conveyancing?'

'It's a bit of fun worth a dozen fees--a plan for raising a laugh against
Tryan and his gang of hypocrites.'

'What is it? Nothing that wants a needle and thread hope, else I must go
and tease mother.'

'No, nothing sharper than your wit--except mine. I'll tell you what it
is. We'll get up a programme of the Sunday evening lecture, like a
play-bill, you know--"Grand Performance of the celebrated Mountebank,"
and so on. We'll bring in the Tryanites--old Landor and the rest--in
appropriate characters. Proctor shall print it, and we'll circulate it in
the town. It will be a capital hit.'

'Bravo!' said Janet, clapping her hands. She would just then have
pretended to like almost anything, in her pleasure at being appealed to
by her husband, and she really did like to laugh at the Tryanites. 'We'll
set about it directly, and sketch it out before you go to the office.
I've got Tryan's sermons up-stairs, but I don't think there's anything in
the