uggles
before the necessary stand was arranged. Eventually an old desk formed
the bottom tier, a stool the second, and the baby's high chair the third
and last. Draped with an old piece of green baize, with small pots of
trailing _Tradescantia_ fitted into the crossbars of the chair, and the
good old family _Aspidistras_ ("as old as Mabel!" explained Mrs
Thornton, stroking one of the long green leaves affectionately) taking
the place of honour, the effect was so superior and luxurious that the
vicar had to be dragged from his study to exclaim and admire.

"There, just look at our divans! Did you ever see anything look more
luxurious? Who could ever suspect they were only a make-up? Sit down
and see how comfortable this is!" cried Mrs Thornton volubly; whereupon
the vicar sat down heavily in the centre of the seat, and promptly
descended to the floor amidst a heaped-up pile of bedding, pillows,
_Sunday at Homes_, and broken bricks.

He gasped and groped wildly with his hands, and the sight of him sitting
prone among the ruins was so comical that both girls went off into peals
of laughter. The humorous side of the accident was not, however, quite
so apparent to the mistress of the ceremonies.

"That tiresome, tiresome bed! I might have known as much! It used to
collapse with me regularly when I was nursing Mabel with scarlet-fever!"
she cried impatiently. "Now we shall have to begin from the beginning,
and make it up again. How tiresome of you, Arthur, to be so heavy!"

"I will spare you the obvious retort, dear. Let us be thankful that I
was the victim, and not Lady Elstree, whom you would certainly have
escorted to the seat of honour to-morrow. If you will allow me to help,
I think I could manage to make things fast."

At this critical moment a loud rat-tat sounded at the door, and Mrs
Thornton rushed to peep out of the window.

"Horrors, a visitor! Mary will show her into the room, I know she will!
That girl has no more sense than a doll! Ruth--Mollie--Wallace! pick
up the things on the floor; throw them behind the sofa! Pull the
sewing-machine to the wall! There's no room for anyone to tread! Of
all the tiresome, aggravating--"

"Nonsense, dear--nonsense!" cried the vicar, laughing. "Leave things as
they are. You have quite sufficient excuse in the fact of expecting a
hundred people to-morrow. There will be no room to tread then, if you
like!"

He turned towards the door as he spoke, and M