fireless bed chamber, even there she may be chevied by her brothers,
sisters, and mother. It is noticed that cousins, and aunts, especially
aunts, are of high service in this regard. They never give an
intelligent woman an hour to herself.

"Is Miss Mary in?"

"Yes, ma'am, but she is very busy."

"Oh, she won't mind me, I don't mean to stay long."

Then in rushes the aunt.

"Over your books again: my dear! You really should not overwork
yourself. Writing something"; here the aunt clutches the manuscript, and
looks at it vaguely.

"Well, I dare say it's very clever, but I don't care for this kind of
thing myself. Where's your mother? Is Jane better? Now, do tell me, do
you get much for writing all that? Do you send it to the printers, or
where? How interesting, and that reminds me, you that are a novelist,
have you heard how shamefully Miss Baxter was treated by Captain Smith?
No, well you might make something out of it."

Here follows the anecdote, at prodigious length, and perfectly
incoherent.

"Now, write _that_, and I shall always say I was partly the author. You
really should give me a commission, you know. Well, good bye, tell your
mother I called. Why, there she is, I declare. Oh, Susan, just come and