good soul had a habit of jumbling
news, gossip, private opinions and public affairs into a colloquial
hodge-podge, that was often as trying to the intellects as the risibles
of her hearers.

"Sylvia, we had a charming call, and Geoffrey sent his love to you. I
asked him over to dinner, and we shall dine at six, because then my
father can be with us. I shall have to go to town first, for there are a
dozen things suffering for attention. You can't wear a round hat and
lawn jackets without a particle of set all summer. I want some things
for dinner,--and the carpet must be got. What a lovely one Geoffrey had
in the library! Then I must see if poor Mrs. Beck has had her leg
comfortably off, find out if Freddy Lennox is dead, and order home the
mosquito nettings. Now don't read all the afternoon, and be ready to
receive any one who may come if I should get belated."

The necessity of disposing of a suspended mouthful produced a lull, and
Sylvia seized the moment to ask in a careless way, intended to bring her
brother out upon his favorite topic,--

"How did you find your saint, Mark?"

"The same sunshiny soul as ever, though he has had enough to make him
old and grave before his time. He is just what we need in our
neighborhood, and particularly in our house, for we are a dismal set at
times, and he will do us all a world of good."

"What will become of me, with a pious, prosy, perfect creature eternally
haunting the house and exhorting me on the error of my ways!" cried
Sylvia.

"Don't disturb yourself; he is not likely to take much notice of you;
and it is not for an indolent, freakish midge to scoff at a man whom she
does not know, and couldn't appreciate if she did," was Mark's lofty
reply.

"I rather liked the appearance of the saint, however," said Sylvia, with
an expression of naughty malice, as she began her lunch.

"Why, where did you see him!" exclaimed her brother.

"I went over there yesterday to take a farewell run in the neglected
garden before he came. I knew he was expected, but not that he was here;
and when I saw the house open, I slipped in and peeped wherever I liked.
You are right, Prue; it is a lovely old place."

"Now I know you did something dreadfully unladylike and improper. Put me
out of suspense, I beg of you."

Prue's distressful face and Mark's surprise produced an inspiring effect
upon Sylvia, who continued, with an air of demure satisfaction--

"I strolled about, enjoying myself