veiled murmur.

The little old lady started, turned pale, drew herself to her full
height, and turned away. Sennacherib, who was watching the pair, drove
out his clinched fist sideways with intent to nudge his brother Isaiah
in the ribs, to call his attention to this incident as a confirmation of
the history he had told the night before. He miscalculated his distance,
and landed on Isaiah's portly waistcoat with such force that the milder
brother grunted aloud, and, arising, demanded with indignation to
know why he was thus assaulted. For a mere second Sennacherib was
disconcerted, but recovering himself, he drew Isaiah on one side and
whispered in his ear,

"I on'y meant to gi'e thee a nudge, lad. Dost mind what I tode thee
about 'em? Didst tek note how they met?"

"Thinkest thou'rt th' only man with a pair of eyes in his head?"
demanded Isaiah, angrily and aloud. Sennacherib, by winks and nods
and gestures, entreated him to silence, but for a minute or two Isaiah
refused to be pacified, and sat rubbing at his waistcoat and darting
looks of vengeance at his brother. "Punchin' a man at my time o' life i'
that way!" he mumbled wrathfully; "it's enough t' upset the systim for
a month or more."

Nobody noticed the brethren, however, for the other members of the
little party had each his or her preoccupation.

"Mr. Ferdinand," said Miss Blythe, turning suddenly upon the young
gentleman, "I must seize this opportunity to ask what news there is
of my dear mistress. I know that she is frail, and that correspondence
would tax her energies too severely, but I make a point of writing to
her once a week and presenting to her my respectful service."

She took his hand again as she addressed him, and Ferdinand noticed that
it was icy cold. She was trembling all over and her eyes were troubled.
He was just about to answer when a sharp twang caught his ear, and
turning his head he saw Ezra in the act of handing the violin to Reuben.

"Have you got a fourth string, lad?" asked Ezra, speaking unevenly
and with apparent effort; "this has gi'en way. I'm no hand at a fiddle
nowadays," he added, with a pitiable smile, "or else there's less virtue
in catgut than there used to be."

"They make nothing as they used to do," said Reuben. He had drawn a flat
tin box from his pocket and had selected a string from it, when Rachel
drew Ferdinand on one side.

"Let me bring you a chair, Mr. Ferdinand," she said. "We will sit here
and you