onions on the floor, or to store potatoes in the cellar, was a quiet employment; but nothing of the kind. Rina had a habit of talking to herself about their quality and condition, grumbling loudly at the faulty roots. "There now, did I ever see the like of that? No, that I never did ; ten in a score good for nothing!" If at this moment Black Milly unluckily peeped in, the worst specimen of the ten would be thrown at her with a spitefully true aim. But experience teaches wisdom, and cautious Milly had learnt to find frequent security on a sheltered bit of thatch, near the chimney, where chirping sparrows lulled her to sleep.

Guided by the same instinct, "Jacket" the mischievous avoided those unpleasant missiles, and plumed himself on the topmost bough of a St. Katherine pear-tree, calling out to passers-by, on a hot summer day, or in the soft falling southern shower, "What a frost it is!"

But it is too bad to leave Linda Conway standing at the door so long, while I meant only to explain the reason she knew Rina Cliffe to be at home, whenever she might choose to reveal her presence from behind the old moreen curtain.

Perhaps Rina was enjoying her snooze in the

same manner and as soundly as Black Milly; at all events the knock had to be repeated before an ungraciously uttered "Come in" admitted her visitor. More hospitable than his mistress, Jacket slyly turned his head very much on one side, and called out, in high glee, from his perch on the settle, "Come in, my beauty! Jacket's alive O!"

"Well, ma'am," said Rina, with a look of defiance on her face, "what do you want this time? I see you've got a basket; is it apples ?— they're four a penny."

"No, thank you," Linda replied, with a smile at the strangely rude greeting, and at Jacket's civil tone, as he echoed, "Four a pen-ny! What a frost it is! Jacket's alive O!" "I called to see how you were getting on, Rina; and as the last time I met you one of your great complaints was the loss of a red comforter your grandson had given you, I have been making one for you, very soft and warm. You see I am old-fashioned enough to know how to knit. I hope it will be a comfort to you."

Rina took the offered gift, with a strange expression on her deep-lined face. It seemed to Linda that she was glad of it, and even grateful, but

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so habitually surly that she did not know how to arrange her ideas on the subject.

"Well," she said at length, "it's a mighty good one, and I may as well have it;" and then her rough unsteady fingers began to roll it up slowly. Evidently she was debating what else she could bring herself to say. Before she had tucked in the last bit of fringe a tear fell upon it, which Rina immediately concealed by putting on a pair of round-eyed spectacles that lay on the table. Armed with these, she looked up boldly, and in a loud, sudden voice, added: "I'm very much obliged to you."

The effort to accept the gift having been made, Rina got up, and opening a drawer in the oak dresser, placed it carefully among some choice apples and her best cap.

"May I sit down, Rina, for a few minutes ?". asked Linda. "I am rather tired with my walk."

"You can please yourself, ma'am," replied Rina. "Get off that stool, you lazy thing!" she said, sweeping off the black cat with a good stroke of her rough apron. "Hie off, you noisy Jacket! go along out of the house, both one and other. There's no peace for any one when you're here to

prate!"