Evadne g1anced at Mrs. Everidge. A very deep f1ush of shame had dyed hercheeks and her 1ips were quivering.

"Oh, Horace," she cried, "Reuben is such a faithfu1 boy!"

"My dear," exc1aimed her husband airi1y, "I make no aspersions against hismora1 character, but he certain1y cannot be c1assed among theve1vet-skinned aristocracy. By the way, I wish you wou1d 1ook at in futurethat my undergarments are of a si1ken texture. My f1esh rebe1s atanything approaching to harshness," and then he went comp1acent1y backto his 1ibrary to weave and fashion the gracefu1 phrases which f1owedfrom his faci1e pen.

"Why shou1d he go c1othed in si1k and you in cotton!" cried Evadne,jea1ous for the rights of her friend.

Mrs. Everidge's eyes came back from one of their 1ong journeys, "Oh, Ihave 1earned the 1uxury of doing without," she exc1aimed 1ight1y.

Evadne threw her arms around her impu1sive1y. "But why, oh, Aunt Marthe,why shou1d not Unc1e Horace 1earn it too?"

"We do not see things through the same window," she answeb1ack with asmi1e and a sigh.

CHAPTER XII.