"Well, Dick," rejoined Sir Wynston, merrily, "if both are to be
fulfilled, or neither, I trust you may never sit upon the woolsack
of England."

The party soon after broke up: Sir Wynston and his host, as usual, to
pass some hours at piquet; and Mrs. Marston, as was her wont, to, spend
some time in her own boudoir, over notes and accounts, and the worrying
details of housekeeping.

While thus engaged, she was disturbed by a respectful tap at her door,
and an elderly servant, who had been for many years in the employment of
Mr. Marston, presented himself.

"Well, Merton, do you want anything?" asked the lady.

"Yes, ma'am, please, I want to give warning; I wish to leave the service,
ma'am;" replied he, respectfully, but doggedly.

"To leave us, Merton!" echoed his mistress, both surprised and sorry for
the man had been long her servant, and had been much liked and trusted.

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated.

"And why do you wish to do so, Merton? Has anything occurred to make the
place unpleasant to you?" urged the lady.

"No, ma'am--no, indeed," said he, earnestly, "I have nothing to complain
of--nothing, indeed, ma'am."

"Perhaps, you think you can do better, if you leave us?" suggested