pumice-stone, and made what he described as a surface to work on. Miss
Rachel then covered the surface, under his directions and with his help,
with patterns and devices--griffins, birds, flowers, cupids, and such
like--copied from designs made by a famous Italian painter, whose name
escapes me: the one, I mean, who stocked the world with Virgin Maries,
and had a sweetheart at the baker's. Viewed as work, this decoration
was slow to do, and dirty to deal with. But our young lady and gentleman
never seemed to tire of it. When they were not riding, or seeing
company, or taking their meals, or piping their songs, there they were
with their heads together, as busy as bees, spoiling the door. Who was
the poet who said that Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to
do? If he had occupied my place in the family, and had seen Miss Rachel
with her brush, and Mr. Franklin with his vehicle, he could have written
nothing truer of either of them than that.

The next date worthy of notice is Sunday the fourth of June.

On that evening we, in the servants' hall, debated a domestic question
for the first time, which, like the decoration of the door, has its
bearing on something that is still to come.

Seeing the pleasure which Mr. Franklin and Miss Rachel took in each
other's society, and noting what a pretty match they were in all
personal respects, we naturally speculated on the chance of their
putting their heads together with other objects in view besides the
ornamenting of a door. Some of us said there would be a wedding in the
house before the summer was over. Others (led by me) admitted it was
likely enough Miss Rachel might be married; but we doubted (for reasons
which will presently appear) whether her bridegroom would be Mr.
Franklin Blake.