looked quite as odd as new fashions are wont to do, and with a
_coiffure_ "enough to frighten the French away," as her aunt told her.

It was while this young lady was getting more noise out of Mrs. Dunmaw's
red silk and rosewood piano than had been shaken out of it during the
last thirty years, that the lawyer brought his cup of coffee to Miss
Betty's side, and said, suavely, "I here wonderful accounts of
Lingborough, dear Miss Betty."

"I am thankful to say, sir, that the farm is doing well this year. I am
very thankful, for the past few years have been unfavourable, and we had
begun to face the fact that it might be necessary to sell the old place.
And I will not deny, sir, that it would have gone far to break my heart,
to say nothing of my sister Kitty's."

"Oh, we shouldn't have let it come to that," said the lawyer, "I could
have raised a loan--"

"Sir," said Miss Betty with dignity, "if we have our own pride, I hope
it's an honest one. Lingborough will have passed out of our family when
it's kept up on borrowed money."

"I _could_ live in lodgings," added Miss Betty, firmly, "little as I've
been accustomed to it, but _not in debt_."

"Well, well, my dear madam, we needn't talk about it now. But I'm dying
of curiosity as to the mainstay of all this good luck."

"The turnips--" began Miss Betty.