On becoming acquainted with Elcy, the Major began to feel the thraldom of Mrs. Coddle unusually irksome to him. He was continually contrasting the truthfulness of the young girl with the artifice and deceit of the old woman, and comparing the gentleness and loving care of the one with the exactions and hollow sympathy of the other; and as he grew to like the younger one, he got almost to hate the older in an equal degree. Still he would hardly allow himself to imagine that he could be in love at his time of life; and whenever he caught himself thinking how wretched he was with old Mrs. Coddle, and how happy he could be with Elcy Sandboys to attend upon him, he drove the thought from his mind, calling himself an old fool, and mentally inquiring what the world would think of him marrying a girl who was young enough to be his daughter. The gentle cause of all this disturbance in the bosom and domestic arrangements of Major Oldschool was utterly unconscious of the effect she had produced; nor did she reciprocate the feelings of that gentleman. It is true, she was much struck with his kindness to herself and to her father during their trouble, and that she did not hesitate to confess she thought him a very nice old gentleman indeed; and whenever the Major had formed the subject of conversation with her family during his absence, she had always spoken warmly of his kindness and attention to them; but this the girl had done on every occasion, frankly and without a blush. Mrs. Coddle, however, who was sufficiently well skilled in the development of the gentle passion, from the budding, as it were, to the blossoming of the orange flowers—not having lived all her years, as she said, for nothing,—soon required no prophetic vane to tell her which way the wind blew in the front parlour of Mrs. Fokesell’s establishment, and did not hesitate to confess as much to the landlady herself. She knew how it would all turn out from the very first time the Major set eyes on the “chit” a-snivelling in the passage. His going out without his tea was quite enough for her: and of all artful young husseys, Miss Sandboys was the wust she ever come a-nigh. She couldn’t abear to see such scheming and planning as there was with young gals, now-a-days, to get well settled in life—no matter to them what poor cretur they threw out of bread by it: and she had no doubt that after all she had done for the Major, she’d be thrown o’ one side, like an old shoe, when she wasn’t wanted no longer. But she could tell the pair on ’em that she wasn’t agoing to be got rid on quite so easy; and if they didn’t know their dooty, and had never given it so much as a thought what was to become of her, why, she’d just let them see what she considered was her rights. It made her quite ill to think of the deceit there was in the world; and what business had that “bit of a girl” to come turning her out of house and home—especially when she thought she were comfortable settled for