a more importantevent in the life of Ann Eliz

althy trips abroad, undertaken on the rare occasions when shecould trump up a pretext for leaving the shop; since, as a rule, itwas Evelina who took the bundles to the dyer's, and delivered thepurchases of those among their customers who were too ge

hop into the tumult of the streets filled her with a subduedexcitement which grew too intense for pleasure as she was swallowed

dby the familiar quiet of the little shop, and the click ofEvelina's pinking-machine, certain sights and sounds would detachthemselves from the torrent along which she had been swept, and shewould devote the rest of the day to a mental reconstruction of

actually preyedupon her rest; and it was not till the present had been given, andshe had unbosomed herself of the experiences connected with itspurchase, that she could

ear little children;and she scarcely knew which alternative seemed to make him the moreinteresting. In either case, his life was assuredly a sad one; andshe passed many hours in speculating on the manner in which heprobably spent his evenings. She knew he lived at the back of hisshop, for she had caught, on entering, a glimpse of a dingy roomwith a tumbled bed; and the pervading smell of cold fry suggestedthat he probably did his own cooking. She wondered if he did notoften make his tea with w

morning in Evelina'sstead. As this purpose rose to the surface of Ann Eliza's thoughtsshe shrank back shyl

to mark the downward trend ofthis "besides"), what excuse could she make that would not exciteher sister

. It was a Saturday, and as they always had their bit ofsteak on Sunday the expedition could not be postponed, and itseemed natural

hey'll cheat you so

minutes later, having set the room to rights, and cast a lastgla

d only anoccasional snow-flake. In the early light the street looked itsmeanest and most neglected; but to Ann Eliza, n

Evelinamade her purchases, and where, if he had any

barrels and flabby fish, found no one in the shop but the go

sked: "Sister sick?""Oh, not very--jest a cold," she answered, as guiltily as ifEvelina's illness had been feigned. "We want a steak a

d up his weapon witha grin. "Your sister kn

urn her disappointedsteps toward home. She was too shy to try to delay the butcher bysuch conversational arts a

ance of a blowsy Irish girl with a basket onher arm. The newcomer caused a momentary diversion, and when shehad departed the old lady, who was evidently as intolerant ofinterruption as a professional story-teller, insisted on returningto the beginning of her complicated order, and weighing anew, withan anxious appeal to the butcher'

ointment turns upon our actionsshe wondered how she could have been foolish enough to supposethat,

lourless week unmarke

first apparition thatyear--failed to arouse Ann Eliza's interest. All the small dailyhappenings which had once sufficed to fill the hours now appearedto her in their deadly insignificance; and for the first time inher long years of drudgery she rebelled at the dullness of herlife. With Evelina such fits of discontent were habitual andopenly proclaimed, and Ann Eliza still excused them as one of theprerogatives of youth. Besides, Evelina had not been intended byProvidence to pine in such a narrow life: in the original plan ofthings, she had been meant to marry and have a baby, to wear silkon Sundays, and take a l

laborately crinkled hair. But now she beganto transfer to herself a portion of the sympathy she had so longbestowed on Evelina. She had at last r

nsformation thatEvelina, looking up one e

merino seam, followedher sister's glance across the room.

e as I live. She must be broke. I'll go andsee."Evelina laid d

ned to her, Ann Eliza?""I dunno, I'm sure," said the elder sister, wipi

ugh they were trying to revive a living thing; but itremained unresp

ast offices forthe departed. "And I guess," she added, "you'll have to step roundto Mr. Ramy's to-morrow, and see if he can fix her."Ann Eliza's face burned. "I--yes, I guess I'll have to," she

e unfamiliar silence, more acutely conscious of the nearness oft

t to Mr. Ramy's, and found that he and his shop had vanished; andall

a weak-eyed little girl in a black apron stabbed withinnumerable pins burst in on them with the cry: "Oh, Miss Bunner,for mercy's sak

signated a bottle ofcherry brandy, the last of a dozen inherited from theirgrandmother, which they kept locked in their cu

nded again to the shop. Itwas empty, as usual, and Evelina sat at her pinking-machine in theback room. Ann Eliza was still agitated by her efforts to restorethe dres

no; but I couldn't stand not knowing what time it was,I've got so accustomed to having her round; and just after you wentupsta

her right back. Ain't it lovely to hearher going again? But tell me about Miss Mellins, quick!"For a moment Ann Eliza found no words. Not till she learnedtha

ter a scarcelyperceptible pause she plunged into a detailed description of thedress-maker's "turn."Evelina, when her curiosity was roused, was an insatiablequestioner, and it was supper-time before she had come to the endof her enquiries about Miss Mellins; but when the two sisters hadseate

hink!" murmu

r. "It may be something wrongwith the--I forget what he called it. Anyhow, he said he

course. I think he's

somehow"--Evelina paused and bridled--"Ikinder thought that maybe his saying he'd call round about theclock was on'y just an excuse. He said it j

an other folks," saidEvelina, putting a c

, 'stead ofspending it all alone in that poky little pl

y of friends of his own,"

"Did he tell you that too?" Even to her own ea

d Evelina, dropping

somebodyagreeable, I mean. I think the man's unhapp

ore, after being years at Tiff'ny's, and one of the headmen in their clock-department?""He told you all that?""Why, yes. I think he'd a' t