"And there was envy in her look,
And envy in her tone,
As if her spirit might not brook,
A rival near the throne."

"But don't you see, Dr. Prague, it won't do at all to admit her into
society on the same footing with our Catherine? For my part I don't see
how you could, for a moment, harbor so low an idea."

In a far away period of time, the present honorable Mrs. Dr. Prague
had--shall we write it?--cut shoe-strings in her father's shop, and why
should not she be a competent judge of the low and common, since
experience is regarded as the "best teacher" in _almost_ all matters
beneath the sun?

"I say," she reiterated, finding her remark elicited no response from
her worthy husband, "Annie Evalyn is not to be compared to our
Catherine."

"I'm aware of that," was the answer in a dry tone.

"And don't you notice how the minx tries to put on the lady?"

"Not at all, madam; why should she strive to assume what is her natural
garb?"

"Now really, Hippe, you are getting incorrigible."

"Hippe" was a term of endearment, Mrs. Dr. Prague was accustomed to
apply to her husband when she wished to be very killing and
condescending, his Christian name being Hippocrates.

To this winning speech, however, the insensate Dr. vouchsafed no reply;
so his lovely wife tacked about and said, "Well, Dr., to come to the
point, this governess is a dangerous rival for your daughter."

"I know it," responded the good man, cutting up an orange, and passing a
silver plate containing several slices to his fair lady; "here, Mrs.
Prague, do regale yourself on this luscious fruit. It is the finest I
have tasted this season."

"Dr. Prague, when I am discussing matters of importance, I do not wish
to be insulted by such frivolities."

"Indeed, madam," said the doctor, withdrawing the plate, and proceeding
leisurely to the gratification of his own palate.

There was a silence of some minutes, and then the lady, after fidgeting
and arranging the folds of her brocade silk, resumed the conversation by
saying, in a huffy tone, "May I inquire what you intend to do about it,
sir?"

"Begging your pardon, madam," said the doctor, looking up from his
orange, "of what were you speaking?"

The lady frowned frightfully at this fresh instance of his inattention
to her discourse.

"I only wished to know if you thought of marrying Frank Sheldon to Annie
Evalyn, in prefere