"Why!" exclaimed Sybil, laughing and pleased, "you meet me as if I had

been gone a month, instead of a morning!"

"Your absence always seems long to me, dear wife, however short it may

really be," he answered earnestly. And he spoke the truth; for

notwithstanding his admiration of Rosa, and the invidious comparison he

had just drawn between her and Sybil, in his heart of hearts he still

loved his wife truly.

She threw off her bonnet and shawl, and sat down beside him and began to

rattle away like a happy girl, telling him all the little incidents of

her morning's drive--whom she had seen, what she had purchased, and how

excited everybody was on the subject of her approaching fancy ball.

"The first one ever given in this neighborhood, you know. Lyon," she

added.

And having told him all the news, she snatched up her bonnet and shawl

and ran up-stairs to her own room, where she found her thin housekeeper

engaged in sorting out laces and snivelling.

"Why, what's the matter now, Miss Tabby?" cheerfully inquired Sybil.

"Well, then, to tell you the truth, ma'am, I am dreadfully exercised

into my own mind," answered Miss Winterose, wiping a tear from the tip

of her nose.

"What about, now?" gayly demanded Sybil, who felt not the slightest

degree of alarm on account of Miss Tabby, knowing that lady to be a

constitutional and habitual whimperer.

"Then, it's all along of the wickedness and artfulness and deceitfulness

of this here world."

"Well, never mind, Miss Tabby; you'll not have to answer for it all. But

what particular instance of wickedness frets your soul now?" laughed

Sybil.

"Why, now, there's where it is! I don't know whether I ought to tell, or

whether I ought'n to; nor whether, if I was to tell, I would be looked

upon into the light of a mischief-maker, or into the light of a true

friend!" whimpered Miss Winterose.

"I can soon settle that question of ethics for you," laughed Sybil, all

unsuspicious of what was coming.

"Do just as your conscience directs you, Miss Tabby, no matter how

people may look upon you."

"Very well, then, ma'am; for my conscience do order me to speak! Oh,

Miss Sybil! I have knowed you ever since you was a baby in my arms, and

I can't bear to have you so deceived and imposed upon by that there

treacherous, ungrateful White Cat!"

"White Cat?" echoed Sybil, in perplexity.

"Yes, Miss Sybil, that red-headed, false-hearted White Cat, as you took

into your house and home, for to beguile and corrupt your own true

husband!"

With a gasp and a suppressed cry, Sybil sank into her seat.

Miss Tabby, too full of her subject to notice Sybil's agitation,

continued: "No sooner had your carriage left the door this morning, Miss Sybil,

than that there White Cat comes tipping on her tiptoes out of her room,

in a long loose dressing-gown, with her hair all down, in a way as no

real lady would ever be seen out of her own chamber, and she tips, tips,

tips into the drawing-room, where she knows Mr. Berners is alone, and

laying on the sofa!"




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