So passed the evening away. Then Walter would go. But he wanted to hear Athalia sing once more. No. She had no piano. His hand was in his pocket again. How he would like to send her one to-morrow, but he dared not say so. He did look around the room, to see where he could set it. There was no room. She could not sing any more to-night. Ask Jeannette. She sings a beautiful little song while we are at work. No, she could not. She was afraid to sing before strangers. But Charley asked her, in his blandest manner, and then she would sing one verse if he would go right home. How anxious she was to get rid of him. So she sung: "Why bitter life with useless tears, With mourning unavailing? Why bitter hope with ceaseless fears, Of shoals where we are sailing? With lively song and music peals, Make life just like the ocean, When flapping sails a zephyr steals, To toss us with its motion, Motion, motion, motion. To toss us with its motion." "There now, I hope you are satisfied. If not you may go, for I shall not sing another word to-night. I don't know how I came to do that." No, they were not satisfied. Who ever knew a man that was? Who ever got one favor of a woman, that did not ask for two more? So they both asked both the girls to go to the theatre to-morrow night, and both promised. More false steps. How many will it take to reach the end? Walter went home, never more happy. You have seen how he was taken to task. He had defied the laws of caste. It did not require stronger Argus eyes than his two sisters possessed to see how deeply he was enamored with Athalia. How they did wish they knew whether she had dared to look up to him, as he had down to her. How should they find out. It does not take mischief-makers long to contrive their plot. If one woman wants to ruin another one, there is one always ready to assist her in her wicked design. No doubt he was the father of millinery, for he caused the first apron to be made, and he has assisted largely in all the designs of female apparel from that day to this. Sometimes his fashion is very fig-leafish, barely hiding a portion of the body, while the limbs, head, neck, shoulders, and other "excitements," are left exposed to Adam's rude gaze. Then he contrives his fashion of so much cloth, that those who follow it may lose their souls in its attainment, and those who make them may feel, as they "Work, work, work, Till the stars shine through the roof," That they are weaving a web with sin for the woof, "Till the brain begins to swim, Till the eyes grow heavy and dim, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A dress for the living and dead." Mischief is always busy. It must be so with an envious wicked woman. The Morgans changed their tactics, and adopted those more wicked than I could invent.