me on the Needlework Committee, and we're
to meet at the Vicarage every Wednesday. She looked up at me a
moment before mentioning my name, and smiled as nice as possible; you
might almost say she read what was in my mind."

"'Twould account for her smiling, no doubt."

"I don't know what you mean by that. 'Twas in my mind that I'd
rather be on that committee than on any other. She's a proper lady,
whatever you may say, Mary-Martha. And the spoons were real silver--
I took occasion to turn mine over, and there was the lion on the back
of it, sure enough."

"I saw you in the very act, and meant to tell you of it later; but
other things drove it out of my head. You should have more command
over yourself, Charity Oliver."

"But I _can't_," Miss Oliver protested. "When I see pretty things
like that, my fingers won't stop twiddlin' till I make sure."

"By the same argiment I wonder you didn't pocket the spoon.
Which was old Lord Some-thing-or-Other's complaint; though I doubt
you wouldn't get off so light as he did."

"There was the tea-pot, too. . . . I couldn't get nigh enough to see
the mark on that, though I tried. Next time, perhaps--though I doubt
she won't have the silver out for ordinary workin' parties--"

"Tut--the tea-pot was silver right enough. I ought to know, havin'
one of my own and a heavier by ounces. No, I don't use it except on
special occasions: because you can't make so good tea in silver as in
china ware; and clome is better again. But though you lock it away,
a silver tea-pot is a thing to be conscious of. I don't hold," Mrs
Polsue fell back on her favourite formula, "with folks puttin' all
their best in the shop window."

"Well, you _must_ be strong-minded! For my part," Miss Oliver
confessed, "little luxuries always get the better o' me. I declare
that if a rich man was to come along an' promise to load me with
diamonds and silver tea-pots and little knick-knacks of that sort, I
shouldn' care who he was, nor how ugly, but I'd just shut my eyes
and fling myself at his head."

"You'd better advertise in the papers, then. It's time," said Mrs
Polsue sardonically. She wheeled about. "Charity Oliver, you
needn't use no more silly speech to prove what I could see with my
own eyes, back yonder, even if I hadn't known it already. You're a
weak fool--that's what you are! Those folks, with their pretty
manners and their 'how-dee-do's,' and 'I hope I see you well's,' and
their tal