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Suppose, Mrs. Cathcart, I were to put this story-club, members, stories, and all, into a book, how would any one like to have her real existence questioned? It would at least imply that I had made a very bad portrait of that one." The lady cast rather a frightened look at me, which I confess I was not sorry to see. But the curate interposed. "What frightful sophistry, Mr. Smith!"

I thought, indeed, he had gone too far to make that possible for some time; but I did not know how far his internal discomfort might act upon his behaviour as host, and so interfere with the homeliness of our story-club, upon which I depended not a little for a portion of the desired result. The motive of Mrs. Cathcart's opposition was evident.

I suppose you were giving her arsenic." "No. I was giving her the true elixir vitae, unknown even to the Rosicrucians." Percy stared. "I will explain myself. Her friend, Mr. Smith " "Old fogie!" "Old bachelor yes. Mr. Smith and I agreed that she was dying of ennui; and so we got up this story-club, and got my brother and the rest to bear a hand in it.

And I trust that, before long, he, too, began to reap some of the good corn that grows on the wintry fields of disappointment. I have my eye upon him; but it is little an old fogie like me can do with a fellow like Percy. Now to return to the Story-Club. On the night appointed, we met.

However this may have been, she got almost quite well in a very short space of time; and with her father's consent, issued invitations to another meeting of the story-club. They were at once satisfactorily responded to. By this time Percy had returned to London. His mother remained; but the terms understood between her niece and herself were those of icy politeness and reserve.