without her, and all the old ones was disappointed if she wa'n't round when they was down with sickness and had to go. An' cleanin', or tailorin' for boys, or rug-hookin',-there was nothin' but what she could do as handy as most. I do love to work,'-ain't you heard her say that twenty times a week?" Sarah Ann Binson nodded, and began to clear away the empty plates. "We may want a taste o' somethin' more towards mornin'," she said. "There's plenty in the closet here; and in case some comes from a distance to the funeral, we'll have a little table spread after we get back to the house." "Yes, I was busy all the mornin'. I've cooked up a sight o' things to bring over," said Mrs. Crowe. "I felt 'twas the last I could do for her."

They drew their chairs near the stove again, and took up their work. Sister Binson's rocking-chair creaked as she rocked; the brook sounded louder than ever. It was more lonely when nobody spoke, and presently Mrs. Crowe returned to her thoughts of growing old.

"Yes, Tempy aged all of a sudden. I remember I asked her if she felt as well as common, one day, and she laughed at me good. There, when Dan'el begun to look old, I couldn't help feeling as if somethin' ailed him, and like as not 'twas somethin' he was goin' to git right over, and I dosed him for it stiddy, half of one summer."

"How many things we shall be wanting to ask Tempy!" exclaimed Sarah Ann Binson, after a long pause. "I can't make up my mind to doin' without her. I wish folks could come back just once, and tell us how 'tis where they've gone. Seems then we could do without 'em better."

The brook hurried on; the wind blew about the house now and then; the house itself was a silent place, and the supper, the warm fire, and an absence of any new topics for conversation made the watchers drowsy. Sister Binson closed her eyes first, to rest them for a minute; and Mrs. Crowe glanced at her compassionately, with a new sympathy for the hard-worked little woman. She made up her mind to let Sarah Ann have a good rest, while she kept watch alone; but in a few minutes her own knitting was dropped, and she, too, fell asleep. Overhead, the pale shape of Tempy Dent, the outworn body of that generous, loving-hearted, simple soul, slept on also in its white raiment. Perhaps Tempy herself stood near, and saw her own life and its surroundings with new understanding. Perhaps she herself was the only watcher. Later, by some hours, Sarah Ann Binson woke with a start. There was a pale light of dawn outside the small windows. Inside the kitchen, the lamp burned dim. Mrs. Crowe awoke, too.

"I think Tempy 'd be the first to say 'twas just as well we both had some rest," she said, not without a guilty feeling.

Her companion went to the outer door, and opened it wide. The fresh air was none too cold, and the brook's voice was not nearly so loud as it had been in the midnight darkness. She could see the shapes of the hills, and the great shadows that lay across the lower country. The east was fast growing bright. ""Twill be a beautiful day for the funeral," she said, and turned again, with a sigh, to follow Mrs. Crowe up the stairs. The world seemed more and more empty without the kind face and helpful hands of Tempy Dent.

A CHILD'S GRAVE.

Philip Henry Welch.

BORN in Angelica, N. Y., 1849. DIED in Brooklyn, N. Y., 1889.

SOCIAL PHONOGRAMS.

[The Tailor-Made Girl. Her Friends, her Fashions, and her Follies. 1888.]

AN EVENING OUT.

R. TEWKSBURY. What beastly bore is on for to-night?

MRS. TEWKSBURY. I don't think your hostess would be flattered to hear you.

MR. T. It isn't the hostess-it's the whole blanked thing.

MRS. T. Our first hostess is Mrs. B. G. Busby Salamander, for dinner, and

MR. T. Gad! I hope the dinner will be as hot as the name

MRS. T. Afterward a dance at the Robinsons

MR. T. Cold soup may be all very well in Russia; but it is deuced poor stuff in New York.

MRS. T. And where, may I ask, do you get cold soup?

MR. T. At half the places we dine. A week ago at the Bitterns, Monday at the Tinderboxes, and last night down-stairs, my love, with my legs stretched under our own mahogany.

MRS. T. It isn't mahogany, it's English oak.

MR. T. A mere figure of speech-the soup was cold, just the same.

MRS. T. A mere figure of speech-the soup was boiling.

MR. T. My love!

MRS. T. My dear!

MR. T. Mrs. Tewksbury!

MRS. T. Mr. Tewksbury!

MR. T. You are warm, my love; wherein you are very unlike the soup.

MRS. T. The soup was delicious.

MR. T. The soup was execrable.

MRS. T. Baron Vendredi spoke specially of it, and asked if our chef was a cordon bleu.

MR. T. Did he? That's rich! I forgive the soup.
MRS. T. Oh, I parried the blow!

What did you say?

MR. T. You were wise. Mrs. Magillicuddy may be a bas bleu, although I question any bas at all; but she is decidedly not a cordon bleu.

MRS. T. Bridget is a very good cook.

MR. T. Oh, yes-who's been at my dressing-case?

MRS. T. Yourself, principally.

MR. T. I can only find one brush.

MRS. T. You have two in your hands.

MR. T. Oh, so I have. I was going to remark, my dear, that Baron Vendredi pays you a good deal of attention.

MRS. T. I was his hostess last night.

MR. T. You are not always his hostess.

MRS. T. Frenchmen are all manner, you know.

MR. T. H'm. Does he dine at the Salamanders to-night?

MRS. T. I believe so.

MR. T. Does he know you are to be there?

MRS. T. Probably—he sent me flowers to-day.

MR. T. The devil!

MRS. T. No; Baron Vendredi.

MR. T. It's all the same. You shall not wear them.

MRS. T. "Shall not " doesn't sound well, Mr. Tewksbury.

MR. T. It means well, though. You are pinning them in your corsage now.
MRS. T. Am I?

MR. T. [shouting]. Yes, you are; and you may take them out too!

MRS. T. [removes them]. As you like.
MR. T. [somewhat mollified]. Thanks!
MRS. T. None that I care to wear.

MR. T. I sent you some to-day.

You have other flowers ?

MRS. T. I received them.

MR. T. Did they please you?

MRS. T. Oh, yes!

MR. T. Why don't you wear them?

MRS. T. You told me not to.

MR. T. I? Ah, I see! Those were my flowers you were fastening on your dress? MRS. T. Yes.

MR. T. Mrs. Tewksbury, you are an angel, as usual, and as usual I am

MRS. T. Mr. Tewksbury.

MR. T. Right you are! What shall it be?

MRS. T. [archly]. Do you think that diamond bracelet

MR. T. You shall have it to-morrow morning. Am I forgiven?

MRS. T. There is nothing to be forgiven. You laid the train, fired it, and then got singed with your own powder.

MR. T. Then the bracelet

MRS. T. Will be merely a souvenir of the occasion.

MR. T. Ah!

A BAD COUGH.

REV. DR. HAUTTON [before service, to sexton]. Jones, slant the second window to the left behind the pulpit; it throws a pleasant light on the reading-desk. JONES. Very well, sir!

REV. DR. H. [solus]. The green hue also enhances the pallor of my face.

REV. DR. H. [after service]. Good-morning, my dear Mr. Croesus! What a charming day has been graciously vouchsafed to us!

MR. CRŒESUS. H'm-yes-yes; fine season of the year!

REV. DR. H. [coughing]. I noticed Mrs. Cræsus's absence from church this morning. I hope the dear lady is not ill.

MR. CROESUS. No, no-used up a little; she's been on that Kirmess all the week, you know, and it's (excuse me) been a dayvilish hard job.

REV. DR. H. Mrs. Crœsus is apt to go beyond her strength, I fear—her enthusiasm is so great.

MR. CREESUS. It was pure spunk, this time; she made up her mind to lay the Bullion faction out cold, and she did it in great style. REV. DR. H. [coughing]. I noticed a pleasant rivalry. MR. CREESUS. It was war to the knife. back her any amount-and we got there! [chuckling]. REV. DR. H. The whole affair was very successful.

I told Julia to go in and win, and I'd

MR. CRŒESUS. Successful! I should think so! Why, the Bullion booth couldn't hold a candle to ours! I paid seven hundred dollars for the floral decorations alone. REV. DR. H. [coughing violently]. Your generous nature, Mr. Crœsus, is a noble endowment.

MR. CRŒESUS. Ain't you barking more'n usual, Doctor?

REV. DR. H. A trifle only-my old bronchial trouble.

MR. CROESUS. Better take a run down the coast. You ain't been away since you got home from Europe in November-and the summer vacation is two months off yet.

REV. DR. H. I presume my unremitting labors have somewhat aggravated my trouble, but

MR. CRESUS [chuckling]. Weak lot, these ministers-have to look after 'em all the time. I'll speak to the vestry.

REV. DR. H. [smiling too]. What a vein of humor you have!

REV. DR. H. Good-morning, my dear Mrs. Bullion; in your place, as always. MRS. BULLION. Yes; I can come to church on Sunday if I have worked all the week; some people can't.

REV. DR. H. A little relaxation would have been pardoned to-day, dear Mrs. Bullion-your zeal during the past week has been so great.

MRS. BULLION. I did work hard, and it was all the more galling to have my efforts so belittled, as they were in one direction.

REV. DR. H. [coughing]. Oh, I think not! Everybody spoke of your lovely booth. MRS. BULLION [softening a little]. Is that so? I'm really gratified. The Croesuses party seemed to think there was nothing worth looking at but theirs. What a cold you have, Doctor Hautton! I told Mr. Bullion there was something more than mere money outlay to be looked for in the arrangement of the booth, and I am so pleased you recognized it.

REV. DR. H. [coughing]. I did, indeed! Mrs. Hautton, too, commented on the lovely combination of color.

MRS. BULLION. Did she? She has so much taste! But you must take care of your cough—a little change would break it up the quickest.

REV. DR. H. Yes; I am thinking of a short sea-trip-a run down the coast, perhaps.

MRS. BULLION. The very thing! I'll have Mr. Bullion see that you get off very

soon.

REV. DR. H. You are so very sympathetic, dear Mrs. Bullion.

MRS. BACKPEW. Good-morning, Dr. Hautton!

REV. DR. H. Oh-ah-good-morning, good-morning!

MRS. BACKPEW. I enjoyed the service so much this morning-it's the first time in seven weeks I've been at church.

REV. DR. H. H'm-a long time to be away from one's place in the Lord's house. MRS. BACKPEW. But you know my children have all been ill with scarlet fever. REV. DR. H. Ah, true; that alters the case somewhat, still

MRS. BACKPEW. I was so afraid you or Mrs. Hautton might call. I sent a message to the rectory, begging you not to do so—the infection is so great, you know. REV. DR. H. H'm-yes, very thoughtful, I'm sure. I presume the message was received, as we did not call-did we ?

MRS. BACKPEW. Oh, no! Now, however, all danger is over, and

REV. DR. H. Oh, excuse me, if you please; I must speak to Mrs. Veuveriche a moment.

REV. DR. H. Good-morning, my dear Mrs. Veuveriche! Allow me to see you to your carriage! [coughing].

MRS. VEUVERICHE. Oh, Doctor Hautton, I want to see you! I am positively alarmed about you! Your pallor in the pulpit this morning was ghastly. You must have a change!

REV. DR. H. Oh, it is nothing, my dear madam, nothing!

MRS. VEUVERICHE. Nonsense! it's a great deal. Come around with Mrs. Hautton, and take supper with me after service to-night. Bartrand shall make you a dish of your favorite terrapin, and we'll see what can be done for you.

REV. DR. H. What a great noble heart you have!