"Miss Boyce—Mrs. Lovegrove."

"I am an old friend of Mrs. Frost's,"
said Miss Boyce, " and I don't approve of
the fashion of not introducing people."

"Everybody is supposed to know everybody
else," said Mrs. Frost.

Mrs. Lovegrove quite understood that
she, who lived in Bedford-square, was not
included in the "everybody." But she
merely bowed rather grimly, and said
nothing.

"Oh, but that's a very nonsensical
supposition, my dear," returned Betsy Boyce,
waving her hand up and down
contemptuously. " That rule can only apply to a
very limited and exclusive circle indeed:
and not to your ' everybody,' nor my
'everybody' either!"

Mrs. Lovegrove felt quite grateful to this
odd little person; and began to think that
her gay petticoat was not quite so short as
she had at first supposed.

"Well; and isn't this a queer business
about Sir John Tallis?" proceeded Miss
Boyce, without the least circumlocution.

Mrs. Lovegrove, being uncertain how
much the other woman knew, shook her
head mysteriously, and said, " But is it all
true that we hear?"

"All true? I should suppose not.
Very few things that one hears are all true.
But I believe there is no doubt that the
man is dead—  died rather suddenly I was
told—and that he has left a tangle of
trouble behind him. Unravel it who can!"

"What has he left?" asked Mrs. Frost.
She had been leaning back in her chair
calculating how many yards of some fine
old point lace that she had seen, would
suffice to trim her purple velvet gown, and
wondering whether Mr. Frost's business in
Naples had gone well enough to make him
generous with his money.

"My goodness, Georgina! I say he has
left misery and worry and vexation, and,
perhaps worse, behind him."

"How do you mean?"

"How do I mean! Why only think
what a dreadful position that poor dear
girl, the nicest, sweetest creature, Maud
Desmond will be placed in! They say
that that young woman, the vicar's daughter
—I'm sorry to say I have a very bad
opinion of her, and had from the first
moment I saw her handsome face—claims
to be Sir John's widow. And Maud
Desmond was brought up with her as a sister.
The vicar is her guardian. Poor Lady Tallis
was her aunt. I never heard of such a
horrid entanglement."

"Oh, well," said Mrs. Frost, "if Miss
Desmond cares about the person who went
abroad with Sir John Gale, I suppose she
will find it more satisfactory that her
friend should have been duly married to
him."

"But, my goodness, Georgina, you don't
appear to understand the case," said Miss
Boyce, impetuously.

"No, I dare say I do not," replied Mrs.
Frost, with a shrug which said plainly,
"and I don't care to understand it."

Miss Boyce chattered volubly, pouring
out statements, some of which were true,
some founded on fact, and some as airily
unreal as the " baseless fabric of a vision."
She had heard something of a will left by
Sir John Gale; but that part of her
information was very vague and confused.
Some people had told her that Miss
Desmond would inherit a million of money;
others declared that the vicar's daughter
would have it all; a third story was that
Sir John had bequeathed the bulk of his
wealth to a newly-discovered relative of
his in Naples.

"But how in the world did you hear all
this?" asked Mrs. Lovegrove, during a
breathless pause in Miss Boyce's talk.

Miss Boyce was rather flattered by the
question.

"Oh, my dear soul," she answered,
smiling shrewdly, " although I do not
know quite ' everybody,' I have a
considerable circle of acquaintance nevertheless.
And as to hearing, I never wonder
at people hearing of things; I'm only
puzzled when they don't hear of 'em! The
world is very small after all. And I
declare to you that I often solemnly thank
Providence that I have no episode in my
life to hide, either for my own sake or any
one else's; for I protest on my honour the
fable of the ostrich burying his head in the
sand, is a trifle to the sort of thing I
observe in the world, where, positively,
people will tie a bit of a gauze veil over
their noses, and fancy that nobody can see
through it!"

Mrs. Lovegrove returned to Bedford-
square, primed with intelligence which, like
a good wife, she was minded dutifully to
share with her husband.

But he met her first words with a grave
admonition, to say as little as possible on
the subject of Sir John Tallis Gale's
affairs.

"Frost brings a queer account of the
state of the case. There is, it seems, a
will. But if the second marriage be proved