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Agatha was very much of a child still, or could be when she chose. Mrs. Hill had been regretting some two or three "excellent matches" of which she felt sure Miss Bowen had thrown away her chance; and young Mrs. Thornycroft had tried hard to persuade her dearest Agatha how very much happier she would be in a house of her own, than as a boarder even in this excellent physician's family.

We sometimes invite an "invaleed" duckling, or one of the baby rabbits, or the peacock, in which case the cards read: Thornycroft Farm. The pleasure of your company is requested at a The Chantant Under the Apple Tree. Music at five. It is a charming game, as I say, but I'd far rather play it with the Man of the North; he is so much younger than the Square Baby, and so much more responsive, too.

No lights or laughter flowed from the windows of the big drawing-room of an evening; the lawns lay dark and still, while downstairs a rubber of whist or a hand at cribbage with Jim Urquhart or Mr Thornycroft represented what was left of the gaieties of the past.

Miss Bowen accepted the offered honour calmly, made no remark, but went thirsty. "How is Mr. Thornycroft?" asked Agatha. "Oh, very well papa is always well. I only wish the little ones took after him in that respect."

Last Friday evenin'. Oh, there ain't no use to deny it, Mrs. Allen! Your boy Davy he stole my dog!" "Mr. Thornycroft" Davy could not see his mother, but he could hear her voice tremble "he did not know whose dog it was!" "He didn't? He didn't?" yelled the old man. "An' him a boy that knows ever' dog for ten miles around!

Deb, wistfully observant, began to dimly apprehend that to wish Rose's marriage undone would be about as kind as to wish back to earth the dead whom we believe in heaven. Meanwhile, Peter had been bustling about after such dinner arrangements as he could attend to. Mr Thornycroft himself had never taken more pains to please this guest.

S.W. Barnaby has published some of the results of experiments made under the direction of Mr. J.I. Thornycroft; and in his paper read before the Institution of Civil Engineers in 1890 he has also put Mr. R.E. Froude's results into a shape more suitable for comparison with practice. Nor ought Mr.

Mr Thornycroft leaned against the flowerless mantel-shelf, and surveyed the scene, or rather, the central figure, black-gowned, holland-aproned, with sleeves turned back from her strong wrists, and a grey smudge on her beautiful nose. "That cottage that you talk about," said he, "will not hold all those." "Oh, books don't take any space," she replied brusquely.

Or is it just possible that when you dive to the depths of your own consciousness, you sometimes find the pretty milkmaid standing on her head? I wonder!" . . . Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders! So do I, for that matter! July 17th. Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre of the universe.

Tell my wife I'll just spend the night with Judge Fowler, an' git back in time for court in Belcher's sto' in the mornin'. An', Bob, you just stop by Mrs. Allen's she's guardian of the boy an' tell her I say to bring him to Belcher's sto' to-morrow mornin' at nine. You be there, too, Mr. Thornycroft an', by the way, bring that block of wood you been talkin' about."