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ALL Biaum JUismrEDl ) I THE LOVE OF A 1 LADY; OR, ROWLEY LE BRETON. By. ANNIE THOMAS, Author of ff Dennis Douue," "Played Out," of Blendon/' &c. CHAP fEU V. A NEW FIGURE ON THE CANVAS, lore and more frequently, as those per- niciously wearying days passed over his head, did Rowley Le Breton breathe the sentiment, Thank God, I have my work —if 1 hadn't that, l' J end it.' His work" was a serial story which he had commenced at the request of a friendly publisher, who had probably been led to make it from the circumstance of there being more amusing fiction than instructive fact in Rowley's impressions of India." However, to whatever accidents the birth of the story was due, Rowley found the effort to support its existence so exhilarating that it buoyed him up in the sea of his home embarrass- ments, and gave him a feeling of being erect on his hind legs, which, perhaps, would not have been his portion had he been compelled to pose as Helen's husband only at this junc- ture. Mrs. Kowley I.e Breton was not sympathetic with these aborts of his. Fictioii -apai,t from that which spelt itself out laboriously through a table, or got itself uttered in more or less abortive efforts of ventriloquism—had DO charms for her. he was sorry, she said, that he should feel that there was any neces- sity at all for him to work in any way for 'money," and when he told her that it was not only for money that he worked,' she smiled the smile of perfect non-comprehen- ion of the artistic motive, and resigned her- self to his struggle for independence as if it were the capricious caper of a mere hobby. So they went on for a period—he finding a valve for his feelings in his story-writing, she cramping her capabilities at silly little spiritualistic seances, where Miss Hewlett was generally the medium. She lessening her physical hold on earth almost hourly-he trying to force himself to swear that, what- ever happened, his art should be his only mis- tress from this time forth One day-it chanced to be on one of Helen's weakest and most exasperating irreproachable days—Rowley received a communication from his publisher, which spur d him to soar. We will bring out your novel in numbers, illustrated. Terms for letterpress will be lower, but you shall have a good artist. Send in copy of first two instalmenis without delay. —SWETE AND FIRMAN." He felt when he read this memorandum that bis foot was on the first rung of the lad- der of Fame, and that it rested with himself whether or not he should climb higher. To be published in illustrated numbers at the outset Where lives the novelist who has not dreamed of and hoped for such a stroke of favour from Fate ? To come before the world in the same garb and under the same conditions as Dickens and Thackeray, Anthony Trollope, and Shirley Brooks He remembered how Hablot Browne had further vitalised those friends already full of vitality whom Dickens had in- troduced to us. He re-called some of the sensations of intensely pleasurable expectation which had been his portion when he bad read that any one of his favourite novelists would have his next serial illus- trated by Du Maurier. To this last height he knew it would bs a feeble thing for him to hope to attain. A much smaller giant in draughtsmanship would receive gratitude from him for illustrating his incidents and giving a personality to his young people. For a moment hethought of showing the pub- lishers' note to Helen, but the dread of her wan smile deterred him. While he was standing with it in his hand Misa Hewlett came into the library, and addressed him in the half-deprecatory, half-reprobatory manner which she ordinarily observed towards him. I am afraid Mr. Le Breton, that I shall not be more welcome to you them usual, when I tell you that 1 ha7e come to ask you if it will be too great a trouble to you to go with Helea to the Academy this afternoon. Certainly I will go. 1 had some work to do, but it must wait. Til go and look for Helen, and tell her at once that 1 am ready to go with "Stop, Mr. Le Breton. Miss Hewlett stalked in an eager, ungainly way into the doorway and barred his exit. Helen is engaged at this moment," With one of her confounded little tables, I suppose?" "She is holding intercourse with those who love and are never weary of her. Let her have the pleasure-no, not the pleasure, but the peace-of that intarcourse undisturbed. She is not long for this world-she is not long for us, Kowley v- She hvd moved forward and put her hand on his arm. It was not a pretty hand it was large and bony, gnarled at the joints, and sug- gestive of a turkey's drumstick. If she had kept it off his arm, Kowley would have restrained his aversion of it. As it was, he shook it off impatiently. You needn't clutch at a fellow, he said, drawing himself up and away from the unfor- tunate female who was making unfeminine advances to him. I'll not intrude on Mrs. Le Breton's ethereally-peopled solitude. You can tell her that I will meet her at the entrance to the Academy at 3.30." Naturally, it was expecting too much of you to think that.you would give up one day to your wife's pleasure." 11 .9 My wife tinds her pleasure in deceiving herself—under your auspices—most satis- -factorily. I try to find mine ia the attempt to do a little decent work." > "IIow I admire—sympathise with-and I adore your spirit," she cried, looking so hope- lessly and repellently unattractive in every way as she said the flattering words that he 'could not feel flattered by them. h You are too good," he said, stiffly. Then he passed her with some difliculty, for she etood resolutely in his path. She watched him hungrily as he crossed the hall and went out øf the house, muttering to herself:— Brute! but how i love him! The day will soon come now when I shall be able to buy his love in return." # w » "Now I will introduce you to the artist who is to illustrate your novel, Mr. Le Breton." Mr. Swete, the publisher, was the speaker. He and Rowley had satisfactorily arranged terms of payment and dates of delivery of copy, and already Rowley had visions of an admiring public hurling itself in thousands upon the bookstalls, eager to get the first number of his serial story, which was to be vitalised by the skilled penoil of some well- known illustrator, he never doubted. He was rather disappointed, therefore, when Mr. Swete took him to an inner room, and pre- sented him to a slight girl of medium height, with the words- "This is MBJ Rowley Le Breton, Miss Daubeny. You shall take the first number home with you, and now I'll leave you to chat over the incident that you both think best deserves to be illustrated in it." Rowley Le Breton bowed and handed over the roll of the cherished copy of the first I number almost reluctantly. Away flew his i brilliant dream of storming fame in fellow- ship with an artist who bad already won his spurs. Who was this girl P Where had her powers been tested ? Her name was unknown to him, and he believed that he was cognisant of the names of all the illustrators who had made any at all worthy of being known. This girl could not possibly have had any expe- rience of the stormy, passionate emotions which he had painted in words in the charac- ter and person of his heroine. She would probably depict his difficult, turbulent "Doris''as a piece of tame lady-like young womanhood? It was a mean thing, he felt, on Swete's part to have tricked him into accepting such an illustrator. While these and sundry other similar senti- ments were sweeping through his mind, the girl whom he was silently regarding so unflatteringly stood at ease, and waited for him to break the ice. She looked very young, for her figure was slim, and the smart sailor costume of white serge was short enough to fully reveal a pair of tiny, beautifully-shod feet. A white- ribboned sailor hat sat on the top of a prettily poised brown-haired head, and the expression of her oval, delicately-tinted face was as care- less and as little self-conscious as a child's. The attitude she had fallen into on taking Howley's MS. into her hands was unconven- tional to say the least of it. Half resting against a table, she raised one foot to the lower bar of a chair, thus making a conve- nient reading-desk of her knee, on which she proceeded to flatten out the folios which Mr. Le Breton had surrendered to her. Presently, the silence becoming embarras- ing to the gentleman though not at all to the lady, Bowley spoke. I hope you will find something worthy of your pencil, there, Miss Daubeny. I was not anticipating the—honour of being illustrated by a lady, when Mr. Swete offered to intro- duce me to the artist whose services he had secured." He said the civil words with such evident effort that Miss Daubeny pushed her hat back from her brow, and levelled a searching look from a pair of superb grey eyes before she answered. And you're not too well pleased now you find you are to have that—' honour. She mimicked the tone and the momentary hesitation with which he had spoken the word laughingly, and he found himself a shade better satisfied with his fate than he had been a minute before. "You've seen some of my drawings ?" she questioned. I have never had the good fortune to see any of them yet. Have you any with you ? May I have that pleasure now p., She laughed with a ring of such genuine amusement that he began to feel annoyed again. I don't carry any specimens about with me, but I think you must have seen some of my drawings." Picking up an illustrated maga- zine as she spoke, she gave it to him, saying "There you will find me." He turned the pages, looking in vain for what he supposed would be the initials of a girl called Daubeny. But he looked in vain. I must ask you to point yourself out." he said, smiling for the first time, and she went to him, looked over his shoulder, and laid her fingers on a wonderfully graceful picture of a group of four girls playing tennis, with the initials K.J.T. in the corner. In his delight at discovering that he was not to be relegated to an amateur or alto- gether obscure illustrator, for he had seen some of K.J.T.'s work in other magazines, he caught hold of the little hand that pointed out the picture. Your figures are charmingly pretty and natural, Miss Daubeny. I see I may safely trust my 'Doris' in your hand," he was beginning, when she laughingly checked him by withdrawing her fingers from his sympa- thetic clasp. You had better not be enthusiastic too soon," she said. I feel if I/ail in satisfying you it will be in just that one figure, Doris.' But if you will oall on me to-morrow I will show you some sketches from one or two very pretty models." She gave him a card as'she spoke, on which the names of" Mrs. Daubeny and Miss Dau- beny," together with their address, Glouces- ter-crescent, ltegent's-park, were printed. He agreed to call, fixing the hour. Then he asked— Why don't you give the initial of your surname ? J was looking out' for a D,'you see." A girl's so likely to change her surname, isn't she ?" she said quite gravely. CHAPTER VI. A REAL FHIEND It sounded like a ohallenge those words, "A girl's so likely to change her surname, isn't she ?" But Rowley Le Breton knew women too well not to understand that the frankness and outspokenness of this girl were not assumed as a cloak for coquetry. There- fore, he answered her straightforwardness as it deserved to be answered. \N by, yes, there is that to be said against getting it well published. I was forgetting that you were a girl as well as an artist." I wish more people would forget it, she said with direct heartiness. It went dread- fully against me at first. Neither editors nor authors would look at my sketches for a long time." Then she held her hand out and wished him "Good-bye," adding: You'll find me just as good as a boy, Mr. Le Breton. I never huff at any amount of oriticism, and I never like the least bit of flattery." Are you going to drive or walk home, he asked, irrelevantly. "Oh! walk to RegenCs-eircus, .and there take a 'bus to Camden Town-the York and Albany, but I don't suppose you know much of that part of the town, do you P" I don't know it well-in fact, I know very little of town at all." Devoutly he wished he could declare that his most intimate friend lived in that part of the town," though he could hardly have told himself why the wish framed ifself in his mind at the moment. The fact is," he went on, "my knowledge of London was gained chiefly while I was at Sandhurst. Then I went into the Army, and was in India for three years, and then I came home, and shortly after sold out." He had been on the point of saying, And shortly after married' and sold out," but again a strange reluctance to utter the whole truth restrained him. What a pity to leave the Army at your age, unless She paused, looking at him so thought- fully, so pityingly he fancied, that he asked, Unless-what?" Unless you were too poor to remain in the service, as was the case with my brother." She had opened the door leading into the outer office as she spok, and now the senior partner, Mr. Swete, was speaking to them. You have settled the subject of the illus- trations of the first number, I suppose ? I've always found it advisable that author and artist should come to a verbal understanding about these things. It is better than any amount of correspondence, don't you think so, Miss Daubney r" "Infinitely better. I've asked Mr. Le Breton to come and have a talk about the incidents to be illustrated, and to look at sketohes of one or two of my best-looking models to-morrow. He wauta something exceptional for his t "You'll suit him, you'll suit him." Mr. Swete spoke with the air of earnest, hearty assurance which a man is apt to assume when he wants to get rid of the one to whom he is speaking. He had turned to his desk again, and was picking up and glancing at letters, and gave other unmistakable signs of distress at their interrupting him further. It was quite natural, this being the case, that they should take leave of him and walk out of the office together. When they found themselves in the Strand it seemed equally natural that they should walk along and continue their conversation, instead of wishing each other good-bye, as would have been discreet. You were saymg your brother left the Army on account of having no private means ? What did he do ? It's so hard for a fellow to turn to anything else when he cuts the Service on account of having no money. For that fellow want of money blocks the way of his getting into any other groove." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with that subtle sympathy which makes itself felt, though it cannot be defined, II I know all about that so well, Mr. Le Breton. Gerald, my brother, had such a fight for it, and he fought so splendidly, and got a good deal wounded, poor boy, before he won the battle and got a post. He began by trying to get a secretaryship at a club, and, that failing, he tried for a clerkship in some merchants' houses. It ended after several months, when he was nearly starving and had to get rid of all he possessed, in his falling into one of the big city houses as a com- mercial traveller. It was a change from the Army, but he made up his mind to put false pride aside altogether, and went with all his heart into the business. That's three years ago, and now he is the most useful traveller the house has, and he gets three hundred a year and likes his life. Really, Mr. Le Breton, if money is an object with you, I would introduce you to Gerald, and I'm sure he would exert himself to get you a post." Her practical kindness touched him to the heart. If he could only loosen his tongue and tell her he was the husband of a rich wife, whose purse was always open to him. If he could only do this, he would be a better and a manlier fellow, he knew. But the opportunity passed while he hesitated. Miss Daubeny was speaking again, and he could not interrupt her. I haven't offended you, have I, Mr. Le Breton P I'm afraid you think I've been in- trusive in offering my suggestions. But you see I discussed my brother's case so fully with him that when I meet with a similar one I can't help feeling interested. And when I'm interested in a thing I can't help making sug- gestions." "You're the kindest hearted girl in the world, I'm sure of that," he said warmly. I feel you'll be a real little friend to me, and I shall claim the fulfilment of your promise to introduce me to your brother as soon as you're able to do it. You understand that just at present all my heart and time is given to the story I'm writing. If that piece of initial workmanship is a success, I hope to make fame and fortune by my pen. Your illustra- tions ought to float my ltrgosy, if anything can do it—to float and sail it triumphantly over even such a treacherous and overcrowded sea as I am ambitious of sailing over." She shook her solemn young head. "The best ill ustra tiollS in the world-and mine won't be that—won't make a novel suc- ceed unless the story catches on to popular feeling. There are such sudden waves of taste in light literature; The public who make a book pay alter their minds every day now instead of every other day as they used to do. No novelist can be quite up to date-at least, iio novelist with any individuality of his own. The cry is all for strong sensation one day, and for delicate, subtle character painting the next. And by the time an author who can delineate character like an artist has finished his book, the public want something with a motive, or a moral, or a question to be venti- lated, and all the delicate character-painting goes for nought." You speak like aciitio, Miss Daubeny. I see you're going to be very useful to me in addition to the illustrations." A real, honest blush covered the girl's face in a moment. I'm no critic. I know as well as you do that I've no real critical ability about literary work. But I bear and see so much when I'm at the publisher's offices. I want you to be prepared for disappointment. I want you to have something to fall back upon if disappoint- ment comes. Ob there's my 'bus! I must run to catch it. Good-bye, Mr. Le Breton." She had sped away from him, and was stepping up into the omnibus before he had time to undeceive her as to his real status, means, or condition. "The dear child," he said vaguely, as she bowed and smiled an adieu from the receding omnibus. he dear child! If it were not for that horrible Hewlett I'd ask Helen to be kind to Miss Daubeny, but Agnes Hewlett would make mistakes and mischief." Thinking of his wife and her cousin brought to his reoollection the fact that he had en- gaged to meet the former at the Academy that afternoon. On consulting his watch he found that it was four o'clock Time bad flown in Miss Daubeny'a unconventionally interesting society. 611'11 tell Helen that I was detained by the publisher and the artist who's to illustrate me If that Hewlett isn't there Helen will be satisfied." He was thinking this as he hurriedly ran up the steps into Burlington House, when a voice caught his ear that made him ccndemn him- self strongly for having come here at all. I waited here to tell you that poor Helen is in the sculpture-room sitting among the statues that are hardly less pale and cold than she is herself, poor dear How could you keep her waiting so long ? Have you forgotten that you have a wife "I think you forget that interesting fact frequently, Miss Hewlett. For instance, now, when you take her office upon yourself and re- prove me." He had passed through the turnstile, and was well away into the sculpture room before she could follow him. There he found Helen looking patient and miserable, chilly, and for- giving I am glad you have come at last, Rowlev," I she said softly. « I oouldn't push through "to see the pictures alone, so as Agnes thought she had better wait outside to look for you, I've been sitting here all the time," I owe and offer you a thousand apologies. I've been with with my publishers and°the artist who's going to illustrate my novel. She held her hand up in gentle depreca- tion. Rowley, forgive me for being unsympa- thetic with this aim of yours, but I feel that it is not a noble one I feel you are wasting your talent. To-day I was told that if you use your pen at all it must be in the cause of II Oh, come and look at the pictures," he said savagely. You were told for heaven's sake, Helen, spare me the repetition of this tom- foolery." She rose up slim and tall, pale and waver- ing. If you will give me your arm I will try to get out," she faltered. I have been here too long in suspense and solitude, I have no heart for the pictures to-day, Thanks, Agnes, I will take your arm, dear. Rowley can't moderate his paoes to my feeble ones." Oh, Helen, I'd crawl by your side if you only showed me you wanted me," he whis- pered passionately. He was full of pity for this frail, faultless woman who was purifying herself away from his heart, He was full of remorse," too, forthat unintentional deceit which he had practised against her in his intercourse with his fascinating little friend —the girl illustrator who was to aid him to become illustrious. If only Miss Hewlett had t not been by he would have melted Helen's uhilly manner and stirred her feeble heart by the utterance of mere words warm and pointed with real feeling. But Miss Hewlett came between them with apparent undesign, but most effectually. You had better leave her to me; she has run down so fearfully while she has been waiting in anxiety that home and rest are the only restoratives for her now, Mr. Le Breton. I will relieve you of the duty you have deferred so long." I )on.t re-pro-ach him," Helen faltered. Then her white face grew whiter, her fragile form swerved for a moment, then fell fainting and insensible into her husband's arms. You must have been giving her a good dose of your spiteful insinuations against me to bring her to this state," he said bitterly to Miss Hewlett, as they presenly got her into the carriage and drove away towards home, "Perhaps, she is clairvoyant, and may not have liked the way in which you have been spending your time in town to-day," she answered eagerly. Rowley, you will con- fide in me, and trust to me to making your peace with Helen. Have you seen he2--thtt woman—Mrs. Marchant 2" "Hold your foul tongue, Never mention Mrs. Marchant to me again, he said fiercely. At the moment Helen opened her eyes and gasped out: Rowley, forgive me for being weak, and believe—do me justice and believe that I have no injurious suspicions of vou. You would have told me if Mrs. Marchant bad been in town, I know you would." 1 have never seen ncr heard of Mrs. Marchant since the day she went down to Walmsey, Helen." 1 knew it! I knew it she replied, faintly triumphant. "You see, Agnes, they were wrong to-day when they told you that a stronger feminine force than mine would keep Rowley away from me. I wish I hadn't listened I wish I could give it up." "You mustn't speak of 'giving up' what you have and what you are, as if they were bad habits or old gloves," Miss Hewlett mur- mured. Will you kindly toll me what your cousin and you were talking about, Helen ? You leave me so very much in the dark that I am afraid to hazard an opinion for fear of being denounced as brutal or idiotio-" 0 Oh come into the light! come into the light!" Helen cried hcstaticaIly clapping her hands over his shoulders, Oh! Rowley, Rowley if you could only trust, and wait, and believe, you would soon be in perfect harmony with me. You would see as I see, feel as I feel. "And be utterly unfit for this work-a-day world, Helen," he said gravely, and more coldly than he would have spoken had Miss Hewlett not been by, (To be continued.)

Like Cures Like. The Homoe pathic Treatment whic'i Stopp d a Grumbling Husband. "The old story—the coffee cold, the fire nearly out, and the room full of stifling smoke." Mr. Grumble drew his chair up to the breakfast table as he spoke with the face of a martyr. "The coffee is only just made, said Mrs. Grumble, a pretty, timid-looking woman, with soft blue eyes and brown braids; "and I don't really think the room is very cold. A s for the smoke, [ am sorry, but the man promised me to have the chimney seen to yesterday." Of course he did nobody ever keeps pro- mises to us," groaned Mr. Grumble. "Jf it had been Smith, now, the chimney would have been seen to long ago. Do give me a piece of steak that is at least warmed through we're not cannibals, that I know of, to eat our meat raw. But that's always the way—we never had a cook that understood how to broil a steak ?" But, my dear," said Mrs. Grumble. Don't tell me," interrupted Mr. Grumble. "I know just how things ought to be done. The paper hasn't come yet, I suppose. No, of course not. I really wish somebody would enlighten me as to why my paper is always half an hour later than anybody else's. If that baby doesn't leave off crying, 1 shall certainly go crazy." "It's teeth trouble it," sighedMrs. Grumble, leaving the breakfast table to walk up and down the room with her fretting little charge. "Oh, nonsense!" saidMr. Grumble, sharply, charging at a slice of toast with his fork. You coddle it too much, that's all," Mrs. Grumble thought of the general com- motion into which the house had been thrown about a month previous, when Mr. Grumble bad had the toothache. But she only nestled the baby's velvet head against her shoulder and said nothing—woman's way of disposing of a great many little martyrdoms. Now, then, wh'ere's my hat ?'' demanded Mr. Grumble, rising and looking around. Very singular that that hat is never in its place." "It is just where you hung it yourself, papa, in the hall," said little Harry from be- hind his spelling book. Children shouldn't talk so much," said Mr. Grumble, tartly. My dear, that rent in the lining of my overcoat isn't mended yet—why did you not see to it ?" "I intended to do so," said his wife, apolo- getically, but you know we had company last night, and the baby slept so badly that I rose rather later than usual this morning, but—" Always some excuse," interrupted her liege lord. II I really don't understand the reason that nothing is ever done in time in this house." He gave the front door rather an emphatic slam as he went out, and little Mrs. Grumble, instead of rebelling against her husband's iron rule, just sat down to cry. Mr. Grumble wasn't by any means a bad husband. He really loved his wife and be- lieved himself to be a pattern of conjugal amiability, only he had, somehow or other. fallen into the unconsoious habit of fault- finding, and, like many another individual, whenever he couldn't think of anything else to do he grumbled. "Crying again Bessie!" exclaimed her brother, coming in an hour or two later. Now that's too bad. I suppose Henry has been treating you to another domestic growl I've a great mind to tell him how uncom- fortable you are made by his little eccentri- cities. Shall I, Bess "No, no—I wouldn't have you breathe a syllable to him for the world 1" eagerly ex- claimed Mrs. Grumble, hurriedly drying her tears. "Henry doesn't mean to annoy me. He has the kindest heart in the world, and I know he loves me!" "I daresay be does," said yoong Mr. Carlton "but why is he fretting" and fault- finding hour after hour, and day after day ? Upon my word, Bessie, I think it's an over- sight in our laws that there is not one to punish married men who scold 1" Don't talk so, Tom," said Mrs. Grumble earnestly. Henry isn't at all to blame only baby is very troublesome and I had an indif- ferent night's rest, and-" Ob, ah! I understand," said Tom, signifi- cantly, smiling. "My dear little forgiving Bess, you ought to be made a martyr of." He sat dowu a moment or too in deep thought then, suddenly starting up, exclaimed: ¡}¡l must be gone or I shall be too late ac station to meet Uncle Tompkins. Did 1s tion to you, by the way, that Uncle TomP^1 was coming to visit you ?" Uncle Tompkins ? I didu't know an Uncle Tompkins, Tom." ei Didn't you, dear ? Well, please to J? pare your best bedroom for oompany—-tbe f gentleman is rather good deal, in fact; but, then, you are used that sort of thing. f, "But, Tom, I don't quite stand" "Don't detain me ROW. Bessie. I will co^ myself with the old gentleman and introd him. Good-bye The moment the door had closed bebi Tom Bessie put her baby into the cl'aC^e,,i.at clasped her hands to her aching head. ug was Tom thinking of ? How should 8 exist with another growler domiciled p nobody knew how long at her But perhaps they might neutralise one anot like two powerful poisons.. There was a spice of comfort in that refltet tion at least, and Bessie Grumble wiped b eyes and almost smiled, jj What was Mr. Grumble's surprise,, coming home that evening, fully P"m Jin a domestic tirade on the subject of a ky which had drifted down from his shirt fr i that day, to find his especial easy chair corner of the fire occupied by an asthma < old man whose head and face were envelop in a silk handkerchief He stopped short I amazement and horror, ",ia Thi3 is L'ncle Tompkins, Ilenry,' sa.n Mr. Grumble, who was busy warming "> „ of gruel over the fire and the old geiltleillo extended one finger without turning his hea I I saying in a cracked voice j I wish, nephew, you would shut door. Nobody ever thinks of shutting a do in this house I'm suffering from a tern g cold. What's that noise upstairs? I niece, that your baby won't cry the j time that I am here. Is tea ready ? If 90' will take a cup here by the fire \1' "What does this mean, my dear ?' e3aC j lated Mr. Grumble, in a hurried whisper, the the wife, whose arm he had caught on Ie way to the kitchen after hot water for lJDC Tompkius, replied in the same tone. "Oh! you mustn't mind my uncle, dea j he doesn't mean anything, only he is old whimsical!" "But a man has no business to make ew,i body else uncomfortable in this sort of vvity) muttered Mr. Grumble. He silently devoured his meal, seC1 n' wondering how long Uncle Thompkins to stay. No sooner was the table cleared to* the irascible old gentleman began again. "Grumble," said he, "I wish you'd 8^ye that creaking of your chair; my nerves a so weak, and if you could keep your childree upstairs their racket wouldn't disturb quite so much. I really don't know how-1 going to stand that baby's noise." I do not think it is a very noisy baby, 0 said Mr. Grumble, meekly. It's teeth af very painful just at present." Mrs. Grumble, who was poking the fire accordance with her uncle's petulent said nothing, but smiled quietly to hear 0 husband trying to extenuate her baby's s'"8',i Well," remarked Uncle Tompkins, babies are noisy. And, by the way, i- El III at 1 wish you would oil the hinges of j" e squeezing door and I don't like the smell that geranium in the window. Halloo 5 haven't any top button in your shirt front- hope my niece isn't a careless wifer Not at all," said Mr. Grumble, nervous". "but the care of her child and huusefreeP',ug duties absorb a great deal of her time. instant she finds leisure she will look to clothes." r I don't see how a woman can spend whole time keeping house and looking a pack of children," observed Uncle kins incredulously. • s About ten o'olock the old gentleman ushered to the spare room, accompanied bf procession of medicine phials, a tub of water, woollen dressing robes and blankets for his feet, and his absence oCC sioned very general relief.. I" What an insufferable old duffer that's^ exclaimed Mr. Grumble, throwing ^lta3%e with a sigh of satisfaction into his favour'^ seat once more, My dear Bessie, how coil you endure this infernal fault finding?" .g I am accustomed to that, Henry. j the lesson many married women are to learn," replied Mrs. Grumble, with a Her husband pricked up his ears a uneasily. Accustomed to it ?" What she mean ? It was not possible—it could be possible—that he was like that odious 0 Uncle Tompkins. And yet he wished BeS had not spoken in that way. Someho^,g made him feel excessively g Three days passed away, Uncle TomP^ ie growing more and more intolerable the time, while Mr. Grumble improved the °c s sion by making a sort of mental of that worthy old gentleman. If. Upon—my—word, said he to blnl "I must have been a perfect nuisilloo e these years. Why didn't somebody tell ofitF' *f«. At length Uncle Tompkins went flannel robes, medicine bottles and all, a the evening of the same day Tom Ca jy arrived from a temporary absence, no',° knew where. So uncle has been visiting you be sat gayly to Mr. Grumble. Yes," said the latter with a slight gril What sort of a looking man is he P" Mr. Grumble was silent for a moment- Do you know," he exclaimed, .ibo into a perplexed laugh, I couldn't desarJ 18 a single feature of his face. He 'was al& It enveloped, like an Kgyptian mummy, l° a silk handkerchief, something like thatoney. have in your hand- However, I'm beartl glad he's gone. With my permission, shall never set foot- in this house again." No," said Tom, archly. g( The most intolerable fault-finder I e met with," said Mr? Grumble; absol^t the most disagreeable man who ever g, bered the earth! I don't see how it is pol, sible to growl at everything as he did. That's not an uncommon failing, lieve," observed Tom, demurely, fmiling- "Very likely,said the brother- in-la^? ,e phatically, but his visit has been prodofW of at least one good effect—it has A^ cured me of any tendency I might have that way. I, for one, mean to Ieare grumbling. e" I'm happy to hear it, Nephew Gra^ exolaimed a cracked voice. The victimised man started tip in scarcely believing the testimony of his s.e?S]jf as Tom twisted the silk handkerchief sk'tf0 jy round his head, and bent himself °eftr» double, with an asthmatio sound betwcel1 groan and a grunt. r6 Why, you don't mean to say that 3 Uncle Tompkins ?" exclaimed Mr. Grum^jf'g, "Pardon me, Henry," said Tom, ira ^er "but I saw that you had unconscious!? come a habitual grumbler, and I judged the best antidote was a faithful tion of your own feelings. Was I rigbt- His brother-in-law was half inolined to angry, but thought better of it, Shake hands, Tom," said he. You irreverent young scamp, but I forgive 7 At all events, the oure is complete." And so Bessie found it.- Ti ue Flag.