extensive that the ladies would not miss the country. Another party was after it, but--‘Say no more,’ I cried; ‘no party but my dear old friend Anne Ashleigh shall have Abbots’ House. So that question is settled.’ I dismissed Mr. Vigors, sent for my carriage, that is, for Mr. Barker’s yellow fly and his best horses,--and drove that very day to Kirby Hall, which, though not in this county, is only twenty-five miles distant. I slept there that night. By nine o’clock the next morning I had secured Mrs. Ashleigh’s consent, on the promise to save her all trouble; came back, sent for the landlord, settled the rent, lease, agreement; engaged Forbes’ vans to remove the furniture from Kirby Hall; told Forbes to begin with the beds. When her own bed came, which was last night, Anne Ashleigh came too. I have seen her this morning. She likes the place, so does Lilian. I asked them to meet you all here to-night; but Mrs. Ashleigh was tired. The last of the furniture was to arrive today; and though dear Mrs. Ashleigh is an undecided character, she is not inactive. But it is not only the planning where to put tables and chairs that would have tried her today: she has had Mr. Vigors on her hands all the afternoon, and he has been--here’s her little note--what are the words? No doubt ‘most overpowering and oppressive;’ no, ‘most kind and attentive,’--different words, but, as applied to Mr. Vigors, they mean the same thing. “And now, next Monday---we must leave them in peace till then--you will all call on the Ashleighs. The Hill knows what is due to itself; it cannot delegate to Mr. Vigors, a respectable man indeed, but who does not belong to its set, its own proper course of action towards those who would shelter themselves on its bosom. The Hill cannot be kind and attentive, overpowering or oppressive by proxy. To those newborn into its family circle it cannot be an indifferent godmother; it has towards them all the feelings of a mother,--or of a stepmother, as the case may be. Where it says ‘This can be no child of mine,’ it is a stepmother indeed; but in all those whom I have presented to its arms, it has hitherto, I am proud to say, recognized desirable acquaintances, and to them the Hill has been a mother. And now, my dear Mr. Sloman, go to your rubber; Poyntz is impatient, though he don’t show it. Miss Brabazon, love, we all long to see you seated at the piano,--you play so divinely! Something gay, if you please; something gay, but not very noisy,--Mr. Leopold Symthe will turn the leaves for you. Mrs. Bruce, your own favourite set at vingt-un, with four new recruits. Dr. Fenwick, you are like me, don’t play cards, and don’t care for music; sit here, and talk or not, as you please, while I knit.”