'All sorts of things that wouldn't interest you.' I quite believe you, young lady.' 'Oh, if you like to call me that,' she said, with a shrug of her shoulders, you can. 'But I think it's a pity when people try to make themselves more disagreeable than they naturally are.' For the life of him, uncle Bryan could not help laughing. This little play of words was to him what the world is always looking out for nowadays--a new sensation. 'Then I am naturally disagreeable, you think?' She did not reply. 'What else do you think about me?' 'I think it must be uncomfortable for the others for you to go to sleep every night, with a handkerchief over your face.' 'If I had known you were coming----' he said, with mock politeness; but she interrupted him with wonderful quickness. 'Don't say unkind things. I feel when they are coming; my flesh begins to creep.' 'Do you think anything else about me?' 'Yes; I think you might give me some supper. You can't know how hungry I am; and I have always a good appetite.' My mother was so intent upon this unusual dialogue, and was probably so lost in wonder (as I myself was) at the appearance of uncle Bryan in a new character, that she had entirely forgotten the supper; but at Jessie Trim's mention of it she ran downstairs, and it was soon on the table. 'Ah,' exclaimed Jessie, with approving nods; 'that smells nice.' Uncle Bryan stared at the unexpected fare. 'You see what it is to be a young lady,' he said; hitherto we have always been contented with bread-and-cheese.' 'This is much nicer,' said Jessie, beginning to eat; 'are you not going to have some?' 'No. Give me some bread-and-cheese, Emma.' The girl was too much occupied with her supper to bandy words with him; she ate heartily, and when she had finished, asked uncle Bryan if he did not feel in a better humour. '_I_ always do,' she remarked, 'after meals. There is only one thing I want now to make me feel quite amiable.' 'Then,' said uncle Bryan sententiously, 'all the trouble in the world would come to an end.' She nodded acquiescently. 'And that one thing is----' he questioned. 'Something I sha'n't get. I see it in your face; it is really too much to ask for.' 'To put an end to all the trouble in the world, I would make a sacrifice.' 'No,' she said, shaking her head, I really haven't courage to ask.' 'What is it?' demanded uncle Bryan impatiently. Then ensued a perfect piece of comedy-acting on the part of Jessie Trim; who, when she had worked uncle Bryan almost into a passion, made the prettiest of curtseys, and said that the only thing she wanted to make her feel quite amiable was a piece of candied lemon-peel. 'I always,' she added, with the oddest little twinkle in her eyes, 'like something sweet to finish my meals with.'