on learned, to her chagrin and utter discomfiture.

Clemence was seated, one clear, cold December day, in their little
parlor, busily at work upon a fancy article that one of her customers
had ordered for the approaching holiday season. She felt unusually
light-hearted. Mrs. Graystone had rallied from her illness sufficiently
to walk about the house, and was now visiting Mrs. Mann in her
apartments, that worthy lady having beguiled her into an afternoon's
visit, to give Clemence a better chance to finish her work.

Suddenly the cheerful little room was invaded by two ladies in sables
and velvet--none other than our old friends, Mesdames Brown and Crane.

Clemence recognized them at once. A pink flush settled upon her pale
face, but she rose with gentle dignity upon their entrance.

Eager for her triumph, however, Mrs. Crane did not give her time to
utter a word. "Well, I have found you at last," she exclaimed, panting
and out of breath. "I declare, young woman, if I'd have known what a
search I should have, I would not have ventured into this out of the way
place. Your's a seamstress, ain't you?"

"I am in the habit of taking in work of this description," said
Clemence, holding, for her inspection, the article she had been engaged
in completing at the moment she was interrupted.

"Yes, pretty well done. Just look at it closer, Mrs. Brown."

That lady now came forward and examined the work in a would-be critical
manner.

"Seems to me the stitches don't look as if they'd hold," she said,
ill-naturedly. "I discharged my last seamstress because she did not make
her work serviceable. I give good prices; I ain't one of them kind of
ladies what wants something for nothing. I never believe in oppressin'
the poor. I have plenty of means, (that was true, for the retired grocer
was as liberal as a prince.) If a person suits me, and keeps their
place, they will have my patronage; if not, I pay them off and show them
the door. My Melindy wants a new silk for a Christmas party, and as I am
very particularly interested in her doing herself credit on the
occasion, I want it made under my own supervision. You see, Mrs. Crane,
it is to be a very exclusive affair, for I heard that the Vaughns have
accepted invitations, and you know they belong to the very _creme de la
creme_. Wilfred Vaughn is a catch for any young lady. It won't be my
fault if Melindy isn't the belle of the evening, for I'm determined that
no expense shall be spa