"Well, then, Rosa, as there is nothing we can reduce, I must write more,
and take more fees, or we shall be in the wrong box. Only eight hundred
and sixty pounds left of our little capital; and, mind, we have not
another shilling in the world. One comfort, there is no debt. We pay
ready money for everything."

Rosa colored a little, but said nothing.

Staines did his part nobly. He read; he wrote; he paced the yard. He
wore his old clothes in the house; he took off his new ones when he came
in. He was all genius, drudgery, patience.

How Phoebe Dale would have valued him, co-operated with him, and petted
him, if she had had the good luck to be his wife!

The season came back, and with it Miss Lucas, towing a brilliant bride,
Mrs. Vivian, young, rich, pretty, and gay, with a waist you could span,
and athirst for pleasure.

This lady was the first that ever made Rosa downright jealous. She
seemed to have everything the female heart could desire; and she was No.
1 with Miss Lucas this year. Now, Rosa was No. 1 last season, and had
weakly imagined that was to last forever. But Miss Lucas had always a
sort of female flame, and it never lasted two seasons.

Rosa did not care so very much for Miss Lucas before, except as a
convenient friend; but now she was mortified to tears at finding Miss
Lucas made more fuss with another than with her.

This foolish feeling spurred her to attempt a rivalry with Mrs. Vivian,