“But listen to me, Pel,” rising as she spoke; “I declare to you that I won’t do what you say, and, any way, _your_ niece will be in quite a different position to the Langrishe’s girl. I’ll be as good to her as if she was my own--I will indeed!” and her voice trembled with eagerness. “I’m easy to get on with--look how long I keep my servants,” she pleaded. “These Gordons are your nearest kin; you ought to do something for them. I suppose they will come in for all your money. Your sister is delicate, and if anything happened to her you’d have to take, not one girl, but the whole _three_. How would you like that? Now, if one of them was nicely married, she would make a home for her sisters.” “You are becoming quite an orator, and there is something in what you say. Well, I’ll think it over, and let you know to-morrow, Sally. As to leaving them my money, I’m only fifty-two, and I hope to live to spend a good slice of it myself.” And then Mr. Brande took up a literary paper and affected to be absorbed in its contents. But although he had the paper before him, he was not reading; he was holding counsel with himself. He had not seen Carrie’s girls since they counted their ages in double figures; they were his nearest of kin, were very poor, and led dull lives in an out-of-the-way part of the world. Yes, he ought to do something, and it would please the old lady to give her a companion, and a pretty, fresh young face about the house would not be disagreeable to himself. But what would a refined and well-educated English girl think of her aunt, with her gaudy dresses, bad grammar, mania for precedence, and brusque, unconventional ways? Well, one thing was certain, she would soon discover that she had a generous hand and a kind heart. The next morning Mr. Brande, having duly slept on the project, gave his consent and a cheque, and Mrs. Brande was so dazzled with her scheme, and so dazed with all she had to think of, that she added up her bazaar account wrong, and gave the cook a glass of vinegar in mistake for sherry--which same had a fatal effect on an otherwise excellent pudding. In order to compose her letter comfortably, and without distraction, Mrs. Brande shut herself up in her own room, with writing materials and dictionary, and told the bearer to admit no one, not even Mrs. Sladen. After two rough copies and two hours’ hard labour, the important epistle was finished and addressed, and as Mrs. Brande stamped it with a firm hand, she said to herself aloud-- “I do trust Ben won’t be jealous. I hope he will like her!” Being mail day, Mrs. Brande took it to the post herself, and as she turned from dropping it into the box, she met her great rival coming up the steps, escorted by two men. Mrs. Langrishe was always charming to her enemy, because it was bad style to quarrel, and she knew that her pretty phrases and pleasing smiles infuriated the other lady to the last degree; and she said, as she cordially offered a neatly gloved hand--