faces in church. But no;
neither of them had, it was evident, seen my ladies in half-mourning,
about whom I was diffident of inquiring directly.

Were any fresh people coming to reside in the neighbourhood that they
had heard of?

"No," said Lady Dasher, with a melancholy shake of her head. "No; how
should they? It is not very likely that any new residents would come
_here_! The place may suit poor people like _me_, but would not take
the fancy of persons having plenty of money to spend, who can select a
house where they like. Ah! the miseries of poverty, Mr Lorton, and to
be poor but proud! I hope _you_ will never have my bitter experience,
I'm sure!"--with another sad shake of her head, and an expression on her
face that she was pretty certain that I _would_ one day arrive at the
same hollow estimate of life as herself. "No," she continued, "no new
people are at all likely to come here. I saw Mr Shuffler yesterday,
and asked if that house which he has to let in The Terrace were yet
taken, but he said, `not that he knew of;' he had `heard of nobody
coming'--had I? I assure you he was quite impertinent about it. He
would not have spoken to me so uncivilly had poor dear papa been alive,
I know! But it is always the way with that class of people:--they only
look upon you in the light of how much you are worth!"

"Oh, ma!" said Bessie Dasher, "I think Mr Shuffler very civil and
polite. He always makes me quite a low bow whenever he sees me."

"Ah! my dear," said her mother, "that's because you are young and
pretty, as I was once. He never bows to me as he used to do when your
grandpapa lived."

After a little more harping on the same string, the conversation
drooped; and, as none of them could give me any further information
towards assisting my quest, I took my leave of Lady Dasher and her
daughters, in a much less buoyant frame of mind than when I had first
thought of my visit an hour or so previously.

I had made certain that they would know something of the mysterious
ladies in half-mourning; consequently, I was all the more disappointed.
However, they had given me one hint; I would ask Shuffler himself, on
the morrow, whether any new residents were expected in the suburb.

Shuffler was a house-agent who had to do with all the letting and
taking, overhauling and repairing, of most of the habitations in our
neighbourhood. He was a portly, oily personage; one who clipped his
English royally, and wa