knots, to be made up. Her customers were all people of quality, and unless
she did her part not one of them could go to the ball. Audrey shyly
proffered her aid, and was set to changing the ribbons upon a mask.

Mistress Stagg's tongue went as fast as her needle: "And Deborah is
asleep! Poor soul! she's sadly changed from what she was in old England
thirteen years ago. As neat a shape as you would see in a day's journey,
with the prettiest color, and eyes as bright as those marcasite buttons!
And she saw the best of company at my Lady Squander's,--no lack there of
kisses and guineas and fine gentlemen, you may be sure! There's a deal of
change in this mortal world, and it's generally for the worse. Here,
child, you may whip this lace on Mr. Lightfoot's ruffles. I think myself
lucky, I can tell you, that there are so few women in Cato. If 'tweren't
so, I should have to go on myself; for since poor, dear, pretty Jane Day
died of the smallpox, and Oriana Jordan ran away with the rascally
Bridewell fellow that we bought to play husbands' parts, and was never
heard of more, but is supposed to have gotten clean off to Barbadoes by
favor of the master of the Lady Susan, we have been short of actresses.
But in this play there are only Marcia and Lucia. 'It is extremely
fortunate, my dear,' said I to Mirabell this very morning, 'that in this
play, which is the proper compliment to a great gentleman just taking
office, Mr. Addison should have put no more than two women.' And Mirabell
says--Don't put the lace so full, child; 'twon't go round."

"A chair is stopping at the gate," said Audrey, who sat by the window.
"There's a lady in it."

The chair was a very fine painted one, borne by two gayly dressed negroes,
and escorted by a trio of beribboned young gentlemen, prodigal of gallant
speeches, amorous sighs, and languishing glances. Mistress Stagg looked,