24 A YEAE OF LIBERTY ; OR, 



in arrear had been written up. Embroidery, crochet, plain work 

 why, the quantity got through was tremendous. There was nothing 

 more to do, so the stock-piece, which always seemed to take croon- 

 ing and purring over the quiet little events of the day was forthwith 

 put on the stage. Certainly it was very rude to sit in the window 

 with one's back to a lady, but the truth is, I was engaged on a very 

 interesting work of art. 



'What are you doing ?" at length observed my companion. 



' Finishing a minnow." 



''Will you please to let me see it?" in the sweetest of voices. 



' With the greatest pleasure, as soon as completed. I am polishing 

 off the marks of the file, and the rigging won't take half an hour." 



The what shall we call it ? the polite reply was so big that it 

 nearly produced a spasm of the glottis. Our good little maid opened 

 the door. ' Please, ma'am, do you know anything about your spoon ? 

 I can't find it" with a wicked glance towards the window. At 

 that moment I knew exactly what a thief, in the hands of the police, 

 feels when the stolen goods are in his pocket. " Is this it ? " I faltered, 

 producing the shaft of a small embossed silver article. On cross- 

 examination I was obliged to confess that, wanting such an artificial 

 bait for to-morrow, instead of taking a common one, I selected what 

 suited me best, and that happened to be an uncommon one. 



Vowing never to offend again, I promised all sorts of things to 

 send the mutilated article to town to be reproduced to do to do 

 anything everything. 



Fortunately, the opposite '-party" was as good and peaceable as 

 wise. " You know you might have taken the teapot, had you wanted 

 it ; but why would you take my poor aunt's spoon ?" 



There was a delicious spring feeling in eai'th and air, in body and 

 spirit, as we stepped out merrily for our boat. The rain of the 

 previous day had filled the bog pools, and the small rills, not yet quite 

 run down, were bearing their tribute of amber to the lake. The 

 west wind was hurrying along, waking up the last of the clouds 

 which slept on the hills ; in short it was just the kind of day that 

 you and I know and appreciate. 



