plete dozen, I declare, and all in good
order,--and a platter, and two dishes! Well, this _is_ a find; and such
lovely china, too,--I must have it. Mrs. Kinglake's,--that she's so
proud of--isn't half so handsome; and _she_ has only eight plates. Now,
where are those chairs that they told me about, I wonder?"

Candace was sitting in one of the very chairs, as it proved; the other
Mrs. Joy presently discovered in a little back-room which opened from
the parlor, and which she lost no time in rummaging. She had just
unlocked another closet door, and was standing before it with a pitcher
in her hand, when the mistress of the house appeared,--a tall, thin,
rather severe-looking woman, whose cheeks still wore the fresh color
which cheeks retain till old age in the Narragansett country.

Candace, who had remained in her chair in a state of speechless and
helpless dismay, watching Mrs. Joy's proceedings through the open door,
saw her coming, but had no time to warn Mrs. Joy.

"You wanted to see me on business?" said Miss Colishaw, fixing a pair of
wrathful eyes on Mrs. Joy, the pitcher, and the open door of the closet.

"Oh, is it Miss Collisham?" replied that lady, neither noticing nor
caring for the very evident indignation of look and tone. "Your little
girl was so kind as to say that she would go and call you; and while we
were waiting we thought we would look at this curious old--"

"We! are there more of you, then?" demanded Miss Colishaw, glaring into
the closet as if she expected to see other audacious visitors concealed
in its depths. Finding none, she closed the door and turned its stout
wooden button with a good deal of energy.

"If you've any business with me, ma'am," she said, "perhaps you'll be so
kind as to step into the parlor and say what it is."

"Certainly," responded Mrs. Joy, airily. "But before we go do tell me
about this curious old jug. It's Spode, is it not? I'm almost sure that
it must be Spode, or some other of the very old English wares. Do you
know about it?"

"I know that it was my mother's yeast-pitcher, and that's all that I
care to know," replied Miss Colishaw, grimly, taking it out of her hand.
"I use it to keep corks in."

"Corks! How amusing! But it's really a nice old piece, you know. I'd
like to buy it if you don't care any more for it than that. You could
put your corks in something else just as well."

"It ain't for sale," said Miss Colishaw, decidedly, putting the pitcher
agai