as of old, but she had been dunned and threatened at least
half-a-dozen times for the price of the satin dress she wore. Her
face was thin and pale, and there was a look of much care on her
countenance; her eyes were restless and sunken, and discontent
spoke in their glances as she looked on the chairs, sofas, and
window-draperies, which had once been bright-colored, but were now
much faded. She had just come to the resolution of having new covers
and hangings, though their mercer's and upholsterer's bills were
long unsettled, when a visitor was shown into the room. It was Mrs.
Thompson, the wife of a very prosperous and wealthy shopkeeper.

Mrs. Lawson's thin lips wreathed themselves into bright smiles of
welcome, whilst the foul demon took possession of her soul. Mrs.
Thompson's dress was of the most costly French satin, whilst hers was
merely British manufacture. They had been old school companions and
rivals in their girlish days. During the first years of the married
life of each, Mrs. Lawson had outshone Mrs. Thompson in every respect;
but now the eclipsed star beamed brightly and scornfully beside the
clouds which had rolled over her rival. Mrs. Thompson was, in face
and figure, in dress and speech, the very impersonation of vulgar and
ostentatious wealth.

"My goodness, it's so hot!" she said, loosening the fastening of
her bonnet, the delicate French blond and white satin and plume,
of which that fabric was composed, contrasting rather painfully at
the same time with her flushed mahogany-colored complexion, and
ungracefully-formed features. "Bless me, I'm so glad we'll get off to
our country-house to-morrow. It's so very delightful, Mrs. Lawson, to
have a country residence to go to. Goodness me, what a close room,
and such a hot, dusty street. It does just look so queer to me after