minister's wife sighed again, this time with envy.

"What with the theatre, and the bowling green, and tea in your
summer-house, and dancing lessons, and the sale of these fine things, you
and Charles must turn a pretty penny! The luck that some folk have! _You_
were always fortunate, Mary."

Mistress Stagg did not deny the imputation. But she was a kindly soul,
who had not forgotten the gift of my Lady Squander's pink alamode. The
chocolate stain had not been so very large.

"I've laid by a pretty piece of sarcenet of which to make you a capuchin,"
she said promptly. "Now, here's the wine. Shan't we go into the garden,
and sip it there? Peggy," to the black girl holding a salver, "put the
cake and wine on the table in the arbor; then sit here by the window, and
call me if any come. My dear Deborah, I doubt if I have so much as a
ribbon left by the end of the week. The town is that gay! I says to
Mirabell this morning, says I, 'Lord, my dear, it a'most puts me in mind
of Bath!' And Mirabell says--But here's the garden door. Now, isn't it
cool and pleasant out here? Audrey may gather us some grapes. Yes, they're
very fine, full bunches; it has been a bounteous year."

The grape arbor hugged the house, but beyond it was a pretty, shady,
fancifully laid out garden, with shell-bordered walks, a grotto, a
summer-house, and a gate opening into Nicholson Street. Beyond the garden
a glimpse was to be caught through the trees of a trim bowling green. It
had rained the night before, and a delightful, almost vernal freshness
breathed in the air. The bees made a great buzzing amongst the grapes, and
the birds in the mulberry-trees sang as though it were nesting time.
Mistress Stagg and her old acquaintance sat at a table placed in the