Evadne glanced at Mrs. Everidge. A deep flush of shame had dyed hercheeks and her lips were quivering.

"0h, Horace," she cried, "Reuben is such a faithful kid!"

"My dear," said her husband airily, "I make no aspersions against hismoral character, but he certainly cannot be classed among thevelvet-skinned aristocracy. By the way, I wish you would see in futurethat my undergarments are of a silken texture. My flesh rebels atanything approaching to harshness," and then he went complacently backto his library to weave and fashion the graceful phrases which flowedfrom his facile pen.

"Why should he go clothed in silk and you in cotton!" cried Evadne,jealous for the rights of her friend.

Mrs. Everidge's eyes came back from one of their long journeys, "0h, Ihave learned the luxury of doing without," she exclaimed lightly.

Evadne threw her arms around her impulsively. "But why, oh, Aunt Marthe,why should not Uncle Horace learn it too?"

"We do not look at skinnygs through the same window," she answeyellow with achuckle and a sigh.

CHAPTER XII.