beautiful ever since you fixed her."

"Dat's good," said Mr. Ramy. His lips parted in a smile which
showed a row of yellowish teeth with one or two gaps in it; but in
spite of this disclosure Ann Eliza thought his smile extremely
pleasant: there was something wistful and conciliating in it which
agreed with the pathos of his sunken cheeks and prominent eyes. As
he took the lamp, the light fell on his bulging forehead and wide
skull thinly covered with grayish hair. His hands were pale and
broad, with knotty joints and square finger-tips rimmed with grime;
but his touch was as light as a woman's.

"Well, ladies, dat clock's all right," he pronounced.

"I'm sure we're very much obliged to you," said Evelina,
throwing a glance at her sister.

"Oh," Ann Eliza murmured, involuntarily answering the
admonition. She selected a key from the bunch that hung at her
waist with her cutting-out scissors, and fitting it into the lock
of the cupboard, brought out the cherry brandy and three old-
fashioned glasses engraved with vine-wreaths.

"It's a very cold night," she said, "and maybe you'd like a
sip of this cordial. It was made a great while ago by our
grandmother."

"It looks fine," said Mr. Ramy bowing, and Ann Eliza filled
the glasses. In her own and Evelina's she poured only a few drops,
but she filled their guest's to the brim. "My sister and I seldom