the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three
captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already
fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which
could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say "no"
so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was
perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London
conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city.

"'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to
hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his
hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I
feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And
help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!"

"My friend," said Lady Kitty, solemnly, "you must have better care of
your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own
house." At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely
cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as
it has ever had.

But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. "Tell
me, sweetheart," said Lady Catharine, "what think you of the fancy of my
new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow,
placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French
court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and
placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we
are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to
Paris we must go for the modes."

"I am not so sure," began Mary Connynge, "as to this arrangement. Now I