by no means averse to creature comforts, and idolised wealth--was her very particular friend and toady, while in her inmost heart she hated her like poison. While in person Lady M’Adam was short and stout, had a broad face with a high colour, not without a suspicion of rouge, and was gifted with a loud voice, Miss Scheimes, on the contrary, was tall and thin, and had a sallow face, with dark snaky eyes, which sparkled with malevolence and cunning. Her lips were thin, and she had an ugly way of drawing them inwards when she spoke, which was commonly in a tone but little removed from a whisper. While the widow dressed herself in rich silks and satins, and rejoiced in flounces and furbelows, the spinster attired herself in the cheapest materials, and her favourite colours were drab or some shade of yellow, which certainly accorded rather than contrasted with her sallow complexion. She wore her “waist” close under her armpits, and her figure was perfectly straight from her chin to her very long feet. A few days after Evelyn’s arrival, these two amiable ladies were sitting together in Lady M’Adam’s drawing-room, when a visitor was announced, and in hobbled Admiral Grogrum, known erewhile as “Cursing Grogrum” of Devonport, but now a sufficiently tame old gentleman, and one upon whose hard heart the ladies fondly believed Mr. Moodle’s addresses had had a softening influence. The Admiral, who had a cork leg, the consequence of an honourable wound received in the service of his country, made his way to a chair, and was scarcely seated, when Lady M’Adam exclaimed, with a somewhat spiteful intonation of the last word, “Well, Admiral, and what do you think of our new _acquisition_?” “Well, to tell you the truth, I think she’s a doosed pretty girl.” “Oh! Admiral,” groaned Lady M’Adam. “Profanity! and from you! What _would_ Mr. Moodle say? Fie!” The Admiral in his heart of hearts wondered what business in the world it was of the gentleman named, but he answered penitently, “Well, I’m sure I’m doosed--I mean to say I’m very sorry; but really this Miss Manwaring _is_ a very pretty girl. What eyes! What hair!” “Yes, Admiral,” responded Lady M’Adam, didactically, “that may be all very true; but what is that but the outward adorning? and what avail those outward trappings, which are but as dust and ashes, if all the while she has the old man in her heart?” “What indeed?” echoed Miss Scheimes. The Admiral couldn’t help wishing the young lady _had_ the old man in her heart, but it wouldn’t do to tell Lady M’Adam so, so he said, “Well, I have only given you my own impression; and now let me ask, what do _you_ think of her, Lady M’Adam?” “I think she’s a stuck-up minx, that’s what I think; I’m disgusted with her, that I am,” answered the widow. “You have abundant reason,” chimed in Miss Scheimes, as she clasped together her thin, yellow hands. “And what’s more, I believe her heart is as hard as a nether millstone,” pursued Lady M’Adam.