however, decided by the appearance of his mistress, who had just taken a peep to see who her visitor was,—her morning costume rendering such a precaution very necessary.
"Bless me, Miss Emily, who would have thought of seeing you in the rain? Do come in. Doctor, go on with your soup, my dear—it will do you no good if you let it get cold. Do take off that wet cloak—are your feet damp? Don't mind the Doctor—he is only an old married man—and there is no fire in the drawing-room."
With a shiver at the thought of the cold blue best room, always in papers and brown holland, Emily took the offered seat by the fire, almost glad she was wet, as it delayed her explanation. But time has a most feminine faculty of opposition—always hurries if we hesitate—and the Doctor finished his soup, and went out to hear the complaint of a man who applied to the justice because his wife insisted on giving him mint tea for breakfast. Mrs. Clarke arrived at the end of her apologies for being caught such a figure—but she had been so busy the whole morning pickling walnuts;—and Emily, finding speak she must, in a few words explained the object of her visit,
