you to look at, or don't you think it time to
invent a new light to outblaze the magnesian?"

I wanted gently to give him a hint to go
home. Six miles between him and Mrs. Arundel
would be almost as good as six hundred, provided
he was star-gazing or bottle dabbling,
and he was certain to do either one or the other,
when there.

"Go home! Patty, I always think myself
at home with you."

Now, there is no denying that this was most
provokingly true. Robert himself was never
more run after by me, in regard to his whims,
than I ran after Erasmus.

Indeed there was much more need to do so
with him, poor fellow. Often and often I have
been afraid lest he should forget to put on all
his clothes, and as for what he eats, if I did
not sit by him, he would put salt in his tea,
sugar on his chop, and mince up raspberry jam
with his poached egg. Indeed, I am a regular
guardian angel to him, in small things, and he
knows it.

When he was pretty sensible, and alive to
what was going on, it was always, "Patty does
that for me; Patty knows what I like; Patty,
am I to do this?" and so on.

And Robert, too, he says he does not know
what his brother would do without me. Once
he said, but I hope nobody will think me vain,
Robert does not often say such things, but
when he does he means it—he said, "Patty,
you never look so pretty in my eyes as when
you are looking after my brother." There!
now I have told it. I hope I shall be forgiven
if I acknowledge I often repeat this to myself,
and I often wish I could hear Robert say it
again. It gave me such a thrill; and here,
notwithstanding, I am trying to get his brother
out of the house.

Of course I could say no more after that
answer of Erasmus. Twenty Mrs. Arundels
might have tormented me in vain.

"Patty," said Erasmus, suddenly, " suppose
we have a tea."

"A tea! the kettle will be up at half-past
eight."

"I mean people—a party to tea. Send home
for fruit and flowers."

"Who am I to ask?" said I, solemnly and
severely, feeling what was coming.

"Mrs. Arundel," he answered, without the
least shame or blush.

"Ho!" I exclaimed, in a voice that was made
up of pettishness, hysterics, and sarcasm.
"Ho, because she is so clever, I suppose."

"She is not the least clever. I hate a clever
woman; don't you, Robert?"

"Abominate them," answered Robert.

"You may ask some more, Patty. Send home
for cakes, wines, and jellies."

So there was I pinned down to invite that
wom—person to tea.

I went to confide my sorrows to Pet.

"I shall come to that tea-party also. It will
be too late for baby, but I will bring 'my old
thing.'"

"The squire dines when we have tea, Pet.
Don't, for goodness' sake, ask him to do such a
thing."

"I have a wish to be of that party. Oliver
has wishes always like mine. I think Patty
has another match-make on hand."

The mischievous thing! And from her, too.
Ungrateful Pet. Match-make, indeed! As if
ever I shall make a match again. No, indeed;
let me get Erasmus safe out of Mrs. Arundel's
clutches, and I won't have a pair of lovers ever
near me again.

"Robert," says Pet, in a whisper, that evening,
when she came down to tell me that she
and her " old thing" could think of nothing but
the doctor's tea-party, and to ask when it was
to take place, " Robert, this once so good Patty
is covetous. She will not let your brother
marry. She wants his estate."

"To be sure," answered Robert, laughing;
"that is just it. Now I can account for her
dislike of the pretty wid—Mrs. Arun—she will
not even permit me, Pet, to mention her name."

I took no notice of either of them, and let
them laugh on. A pretty thing, indeed, to
accuse me of not helping Erasmus to marry! I
should like him to marry. I want him to marry,
poor dear fellow, some one who will take care
of him. But who in the world is there fit for
him?

Mary Macoll was just the least in the world
too giddy. And Lucy Hatchard was too
delicate. He must have a strong, active, sensible
wife, one who will take care he does not get his
death of cold star-gazing, or blow himself up
bottling, or starve himself by forgetting to eat.

Learning is doubtless a wonderful blessing,
and one ought to be very proud if one has such
a clever relation as Erasmus. And I am sure I
am proud. But, goodness gracious me, what a
plague it is after all, and what good does it do
one to know what people did formerly, and what
people are going to do hereafter? To my mind,
one had better be thinking what one is about oneself.

Which reminds me of the doctor's tea-party.
Of course, if Pet would come, and would bring
the squire, why I must set about having things
altogether in first-rate order.

I must have the drawing-room carpet up for
one thing, and put up the clean curtains, and the
summer chintz. And I must send over to Windfalls
—Erasmus's house—for flowers and fruit,
and game and fish; and I am sure Molesworthy
—his cook and housekeeper—will come and
help. But first I must see whom to invite.

Dear me, now, if it was not for that wom—
person, how I should enjoy Erasmus's tea-party.

I will have young Knowles, and pretty Lizzy
Thomson, because I have lately seen symptoms.
Tut, what in the world am I thinking of. No
more lovers for me, thank you. I am disgusted
with the whole race of lovers, and think love-making,
especially the love-making now-a-days,
quite disgraceful.

The eyes Mrs. Arundel makes, and her helplessness!
as if she had fewer arms and legs than