I.

It was breakfast-time at Todhurst Vicarage; and as comfortable a meal was set out in as comfortable a morning-room as could be found in the three kingdoms. It was a hard frost, which added to the comfort, for nobody could have the heart to wish such a glorious fire away, while, to enjoy it properly, it was necessary to be very cold. Very near the blaze, which obtained quite a literary character from the number of books, mostly folios, which lined every available space of the four walls and received the fulness of the glow, was drawn a small table. At one warm corner of the table sat one comfortable person, at the other warm corner sat the other. One was the Reverend Nathaniel Greenfinch, D.D., Vicar of Todhurst, and formerly Fellow of St. Christopher's College, Cambridge; the other was the lady who had deprived him of his fellowshipMrs. Greenfinch, who had been Miss Susan Linnet once upon a time.

Dr. Greenfinch was tall and portly, heavy in make, and to the full as dignified in bearing as became a beneficed clergyman who had once been a don of the old CHRISTMAS, '82.

school. That sort of dignity, however, is-or, alas that it should be said, was-apt to be a little awkward and shy; and it was plain to see, even at the first glance, that in the present case it did not belong to one who would be called a man of the world. He was certainly no ascetic, and, with his many signs of regular sleep, addiction to quiet study, and thorough enjoyment of the pleasures of the table, resembled as little the modern model of a man with the souls of a parish upon his mind, as he resembled any type of the modern don. But he was as certainly one whose opinion would be much more valuable when expressed on old books or old wine than upon men or women, whether old or young. His wife was a delicate-looking little woman, who had very likely been pretty a good many years ago, and was still pleasant to look upon. She gave the idea of perhaps being a trifle too amiable, but then, if that be a fault at all, it is certainly one on the right side.

'Nat,' said Mrs. Greenfinch, laying down the last of her morning's budget of letters, and taking off her spectacles, I hope you haven't forgotten this is the day they are to come?'

B

Eh--what, my dear? asked Dr. Greenfinch, starting from a reverie upon the nature of a new reading in a chorus of Eschylus, which he had discovered among his coffee grounds. 'To-day What's to day? Who are to come?'

'Why, Nat-they, to be sure! Don't you know to-day's Thursday?

Why, so it is Thursday, to be sure! But the idea of my forgetting-absurd! I never forget; I never forgot anything, since I first learnt my letters. Did you ever know me forget anything, Susan— any infinitesimal thing?'

'Of course not, Nat dear. But with so many things to think of, as you have, one might get in the other's way, you know. I'm sure it's often happening so, with me, and I've not half so many things to see after as you. If I had, I'm sure I don't know where my poor wits would be.'

'It's only the difference between Masculine and Feminine, my dear -a matter of Gender, that's all. I assure you that Number has nothing whatever to do with the matter. It's just as easy to learn the plural as the singular, if you once make up your mind. Julius Cæsar, my dear Susan, was known to read, write, dictate, listen, and converse all at one time; and I have but little doubt that I myself, were I Julius Cæsar, could do the same. Even at this very moment I am considering a new reading in the Septem contra Thebas, and am at the same time conversing with you. "Kai dolos oudeis mē ek phrenos orthōs me ligainein." Rather read Blomfield says-Yes, my dear?'

'They'll have to be met, of course. Will you go over, or send James?'

'Orthōs-orthēs-James?

O,

of course, of course-send James. I feel convinced that Blomfield's wrong. I can see it with half an

eye. Don't you see yourself, Susan, that Eschylus must have intended-'

'No doubt, dear. I was thinking of putting two of them together in the best spare room, and the other could have the dressingroom-at least for a time. They won't make any difference to you, dear.'

'Well-hm- not much, of course, if they're well behavedand if they're not, they sha'n't make any at all. They'll have to work if they come here; and as to their morals, there's nothing escapes my eye.'

'Morals, Nat! Good gracious, why, they're irreproachable! And as to work, their crewels and their art-needlework are something to be seen. They're fonder of work than anybody of their age I ever saw. It's so nice to be fond of work on a wet day.'

'But all work and no play, my dear-that won't do. I've been thinking. Susan-'

O Nat! Have you really? Our old piano is older than it was twenty years ago, when I used to play you to sleep over your Latin and Greek till it was time for tea. That would be so nice to have a new one, for they play beautifully I believe all three.'

'Yes, Susan-thinking of looking out my old fishing tackle, and seeing if old Grimshaw can't get up some sort of a cricket match, or football match, with Conglebury. They'll be sure to want some sort of violent exercise-it's the way with them all now-and football or hockey, or something of that sort, would be more respectable than playing skittles at the Bull, as else they'd be sure to do.' The Doctor's notions about sports and pastimes and their recognised seasons were, it will be observed, rather mixed; but he meant well.

Agnes Clara Why, who-'

Millicent!

And afraid of their morals, Nat-three innocent young girls fresh from school!'

'My dear-if Julius Cæsar had had to decide between that ō and that ē, I really do think that even he would have had to postpone one of his occupations to another time. But then we may, I think, take it that the person with whom he conversed would have confined his, or her, observations to one topic at a time. This is Thursday, and we were talking about those three young men.'

'Good gracious, Nat-Agnes, Clara, Millicent and three young men! Why, they haven't one !'

Tut, tut. They are three very nice girls, I daresay. But we were talking about-about-I remember; or, more accurately, I haven't forgotten. We were talking about sending James to the station to meet those three young men.'

my nieces to make a long stay. O Nat, what is to be done now?'

'My dear-I do not remember about your three nieces. And, therefore, it never could have been mentioned between us till this moment; for I never forget anything, and never did, and never shall, as nobody knows better than you. It was I, if you remember, who remembered which side of the bin the '47 port was when everybody else had forgotten. It is most unfortunate, my dear, that you should have asked your nieces here without my knowledge-most unfortunate indeed.'

'Nat-it's dreadful! How could you be having three young men down from Cambridge without telling me?'

'But I did tell you all about it, Susan. I did tell you, because I distinctly remember having told you. At least, I must have told you such a thing as that, and, therefore, I did tell you; and, therefore, I'm bound to remember telling you. Well, my dear, it can't be helped now. I'll go and send James.'

'To bring my three nieces and three strange young men in one brougham? Nat, it cannot be done. Who are these three young men? And, O, where are we to find them room?

'In the brougham, my dear? We must have the Bull fly,' said Dr. Greenfinch, compelled to make the best of things; for though he would not have owned it, even to himself, for a deanery, he could not avoid certain misgivings that he must really have somehow omitted to inform Mrs. Greenfinch of his intended pupils, even if he had not failed to realise that the Miss Linnets were also due at Todhurst. For if there was one quality on which he prided himself, it was practical infallibility