ch she had studied with the assiduity of a diligent
school-girl. She had also, though not without trepidation, ordered a
quantity of visiting cards, and had them inscribed respectively with her
own and her brother's names. And thus, when Society made its first
advances, it did not find Miss Jemima unprepared.

When "Cobbler" Horn espied the visiting cards on his hall table, he said
to his sister:

"What, more of these, Jemima?"

"Yes, Thomas," she responded, with evident pride; "and some of them belong
to the best people in the neighbourhood!"

"And have all these people been here?" he asked, taking up a bunch of the
cards between his finger and thumb, and regarding them with a mingling of
curiosity and amusement.

"Yes," replied Miss Jemima, in exultant tones, "they have all been here;
but a good many of them happened to come when I was out."

"Cobbler" Horn sighed.

"Well," he said, "I suppose this is another of 'the penalties of wealth!'"

"Say rather _privileges_, Thomas," Miss Jemima ventured delicately to
suggest.

"No, Jemima. It may appear to you in that light; but I am not able to
regard as a privilege the coming to us of all these grand people. How much
better it would be, if they would leave us to live our life in our own
way! Do you suppose they would ever have taken any notice of us at all, if
it had not been for this money?"

Miss Jemima was unable to reply; for it was impossible to gainsay her
brother's words. And yet it was sweet to her soul to have all the best
people in the neighbourhood calling and leaving their cards. For the
present, she let the matter rest. But, a day or two afterwards, the course
of events brought the question to the surface again. Miss Jemima was
brushing her brother's coat, in the dining-room, after dinner, previous to
his setting out for his old workshop, when they saw a carriage drive up to
the gate.

"Here are some more of your grand friends, Jemima," said "Cobbler" Horn,
with a sigh. "How ever am I to get out?"

Miss Jemima was peeping out from behind the window-curtain, with the
eagerness of a girl.

"Why," she exclaimed, as the occupants of the carriage began to alight,
"it's Mr. and Mrs. Brownlow, the retired b----." "Brewer" she was going
to say but checked herself. "Surely you will not think of going out now,
Thomas?"

"Cobbler" Horn knew Mr. and Mrs. Brownlow very well by sight. He had known
them before they rode in their carriage, and when they were