“I take you at your word,” continued Miss Carr; “I like your appearance, and would willingly improve my acquaintance. I often watched you from my windows; and yesterday I asked Mrs. Turner who you were. Her account was so much in your favour, that I determined to introduce myself the first time we accidentally encountered each other. I know your names and where you live. May I come and occasionally enjoy an hour’s chat?” “We shall only be too happy,” said Flora, in spite of a warning pinch from Lyndsay, which said, as plainly as words could have done, “She’s mad; as mad as a March hare.” But Flora would not understand the hint. She felt flattered by the confidence so unexpectedly reposed in them by the odd creature; and vanity is a great enemy to common sense. “Mind,” said Miss Wilhelmina, turning abruptly to Lyndsay, “I don’t want to see you at my house. I’m a single woman, and, though not very young, I’m very particular about my character. I never allow a male creature to enter my doors. I’m not fond of men—I have no reason to be fond of them. They never were commonly civil to me; and I hate them generally and individually. When I come to see your wife of course I don’t expect you to hide out of the way, or peep at me through crannies, as if I were a wild beast. I shall call to-morrow morning, and so, good day. “Muff! Muff!—My incomparable! my perfect!—What are you doing? Frisking beside that ugly black cur! He’s no companion for a dog of your breeding and degree. Away, you vulgar-looking brute.” And running across the road, she seized hold of a pedlar’s dog, who was having a great game of romps with her favourite, and gave it a most unjust and unmerciful belabouring with her cane. The pedlar, who was by no means pleased with this outrage against his cur, now interfered. “Don’t lick my dorrg, ma’am, in that ere sort o’ fashun. What harm can that hanimal ha’ done to you, or that whiskered cat-like thing o’ yourn?” “Hold your impertinent tongue, fellow! or I’ll thrash you, too,” cried Miss Wilhelmina, flourishing aloft her cane. The man eyed her sullenly. “Maybe, you’d beest not try. If you warn’t a ’uman I’d give it to ’un.” “A lady, sir,” with great dignity, and drawing herself up to her full height. “Ladies don’t act in that ere way. You be but a ’uman, and a mad yun, too; that be what you be’s.” The next moment Lyndsay expected the cane to descend upon the pedlar’s head, and was ready to rush to the rescue of the fair Wilhelmina. But no; the lady dropped her cane, burst into a loud fit of laughter, stooped down, patted the offended cur, and, slipping a shilling into the hand of the angry countryman, snatched Muff to her capacious bosom, and walked off at full trot. The pedlar, looking after her for a minute, with his eyes and mouth wide open in blank astonishment, and then down at the silver glittering in his hand, cried out,—