cousin so hopelessly fashionable.

Goodnatured he was, without doubt; for as the three ladies were
sitting down to a sociable morning of work and reading aloud, he came
in to say he was going to see after Tom Madison, and to ask if there
were any commands for Northwold, with his checked shooting-jacket
pockets so puffed out that his aunt began patting and inquiring.
'Provisions for the House Beautiful,' he said, as forth came on the
one side a long rough brown yam. 'I saw it at a shop in London,' he
said, 'and thought the Faithfull sisters would like to be reminded of
their West Indian feasts.' And, 'to make the balance true,' he had
in the other pocket a lambswool shawl of gorgeous dyes, with wools to
make the like, and the receipt, in what he called 'female algebra,'
the long knitting-pins under his arm like a riding-whip. He
explained that he thought it would be a winter's work for Miss Salome
to imitate it, and that she would succour half-a-dozen families with
the proceeds; and Mrs. Ponsonby was pleased to hear him speak so
affectionately of the two old maiden sisters. They were the nieces
of an old gentleman to whom the central and handsomest house of
Dynevor Terrace had been let. He had an annuity which had died with
him, and they inherited very little but the furniture with which they
had lived on in the same house, in hopes of lodgers, and paying rent
to Mrs. Frost when they had any. There was a close friendship and
perfect understanding between her and them, and, as she truly assured
them, full and constant rent could hardly have done her as much good
as their neighbourhood. Miss Mercy was the Sister of Charity of all
Northwold; Miss Salome, who was confined to her chair by a complaint
in her knee, knitted and made fancy-works, the sale of which
furnished funds for her charities. She was highly educated, and had
a great knowledge of natural history. Fitzjocelyn had given their