changed my dress? I am not known here as the 'Wandering Minstrel.'"

Kenelm glanced at the man's attire, and for the first time observed
the change. It was still picturesque in its way, but it was such as
gentlemen of the highest rank frequently wear in the country,--the
knickerbocker costume,--very neat, very new, and complete, to the
square-toed shoes with their latchets and buckles.

"I fear," said Kenelm, gravely, "that your change of dress betokens
the neighbourhood of those pretty girls of whom you spoke in an
earlier meeting. According to the Darwinian doctrine of selection,
fine plumage goes far in deciding the preference of Jenny Wren and her
sex, only we are told that fine-feathered birds are very seldom
songsters as well. It is rather unfair to rivals when you unite both
attractions."

The minstrel laughed. "There is but one girl in my friend's
house,--his niece; she is very plain, and only thirteen. But to me
the society of women, whether ugly or pretty, is an absolute
necessity; and I have been trudging without it for so many days that I
can scarcely tell you how my thoughts seemed to shake off the dust of
travel when I found myself again in the presence of--"

"Petticoat interest," interrupted Kenelm. "Take care of yourself. My
poor friend with whom you found me is a grave warning against
petticoat interest, from which I hope to profit. He is passing
through a great sorrow; it might have been worse than sorrow. My
friend is going to stay in this town. If you are staying here too,
pray let him see something of you. It will do him a wondrous good if
you can beguile him from this real life into the gardens of poetland;