"My dear, we are governed socially by the seven Mrs. Potts. Have you ever heard of those ladies?" "Never." "Where has she been raised--this young person--that she has never heard of the seven Mrs. Potts of the town of Rossignol by Merry Meeting Bay?" exclaimed Miss Gastonguay, in comical dismay. "Look across the river at those seven domed mansions standing in solitary grandeur on those seven small hills. Talk about the seven hills of Rome! They pale before the distinction of these hills." Derrice laughed at the exaggeration of her tone, and in much interest gazed across the semi-frozen river at the glittering pinnacles and roof-tops of the seven pretentious dwellings of the seven Mrs. Potts. "They own all that side of the river. When we want to pay court to them, or when they deign to honour the town with a visit, they drive over that bridge. But here comes rather an interesting girl that I would like you to meet. Halt, voice from the wilderness!" The street of the prosperous little town was full of pedestrians, and numerous wagons were drawn up beside the pavement, yet, among the several passers-by who heard the salutation, a girl readily detached herself from a group and approached the cart. Derrice surveyed her with interest. She was tall and of a singular fragility and thinness of appearance, her expression was nervous and strained, and her china-blue eyes scanned the stranger's face with an eagerness that approached intensity. "Well, Aurelia," said Miss Gastonguay, agreeably, "if you haven't gone mad yet, let me introduce you to our latest gain in the way of arrivals,--Mrs. Justin Mercer." The two girls shook hands, and Miss Gastonguay, taking advantage of the moment that they were engaged with each other, tried to lift the cover of the basket on Miss Sinclair's arm. When she found that it was tied down, she said, "What have you got in there, Aurelia Sinclair?" "Eggs." "For whom?" "Old Mrs. Graile up at the poorhouse,--she's dying." "Old humbug, she ought to have died long ago. You only want to be admired for superior sanctity to go ploughing through the mud up there. Come and have afternoon tea with me." Aurelia shook her head. "Then tell this young lady that I am a person to be trusted. Otherwise she will think I am a kind of ogress luring her to my den." Aurelia's face at once took a rapt expression. Delicate waves of colour flowed over it, and in a sweet, thin tone of intense admiration she extended one hand in Miss Gastonguay's direction, and exclaimed, "I admire to give the character of such a woman to a stranger. Mrs. Mercer, this is the favourite of the town. Everybody loves her, everybody trusts her. She will speak sharply, but her tongue is always honest, and even when it is giving deserved reproof there will be tears in her kind eyes. I am proud to have this chance of telling Miss Gastonguay that I love her for her goodness to the poor of this town.--She is--"