BITS OF LIFE. 
i*5 
“ Sometimes/ * she said, a little wearily, 
“ Clementina tries me. I’m afraid she doesn’t 
practise enough, and I have to tell her the 
same things so often. And then she always 
dresses entirely in white, and that does get 
monotonous. But General Pinkney is the 
dearest old man ! I wish you could know him, 
Joe. He comes in sometimes when I am 
with Clementina at the piano — he is a 
widower, you know — and stands there pull- 
ing his white goatee. ‘ And how are the 
semiquavers and the demi-semiquavers pro- 
gressing ? ’ he always asks. 
“ I wish you could see the wainscoting in 
that drawing-room, Joe ! And those Astra- 
khan rug portieres. And Clementina has such 
a funny little cough. I hope she is stronger 
than she looks. Oh, I really am getting 
attached to her ; she is so gentle and high 
bred. General Pinkney’s brother was once 
Minister to Bolivia.” 
And then Joe, with the air of a Monte 
Cristo, drew forth a ten, a five, a two, and 
a one — all legal tender notes — and laid them 
beside Delia’s earnings. 
“ Sold that water-colour of the obelisk to 
a man from Peoria,” he announced, over- 
whelmingly. 
“ Don’t joke with me,” said Delia. “ Not 
from Peoria!” 
“ All the way. I wish you could see him, 
Dele. Fat man with a woollen muffler and 
a quill tooth-pick. He saw the sketch in 
Tinkle’s window, and thought it was a wind- 
mill at first. He was game, though, and 
bought it, anyhow. He ordered another — 
an oil sketch of the Lackawanna station — 
to take back with him. Music-lessons ! 
Oh, I guess Art is still in it.” 
“ I’m so glad you’ve kept on,” said Delia, 
heartily. “ You’re bound to win, dear. 
Thirty-three dollars ! We never had so much 
to spend before. We’ll have oysters to- 
night.” 
“ And filet mignon with champignons,” 
said Joe. “ Where is the olive fork ? ” 
On the next Saturday evening Joe reached 
home first. He spread his eighteen dollars 
on the parlour table and washed what seemed 
to be a great deal of dark paint from his hands. 
Half an hour later Delia arrived, her right 
hand tied up in a shapeless bundle of wraps 
and bandages. 
“ How is this ? ” asked Joe, after the usual 
greetings. 
Delia laughed, but not very joyously. 
“ Clementina,” she explained, “ insisted 
upon a Welsh rabbit after her lesson. She 
is such a queer gir\ Welsh rabbits at five 
in the afternoon. The General was there. 
You should have seen him run for the chafing- 
dish, Joe, just as if there wasn’t a servant in 
the house. I know Clementina isn’t in good 
health ; she is so nervous. In serving the 
rabbit she spilled a great lot of it, boiling hot, 
over my hand and wrist. It hurt awfully, 
Joe. And the dear girl was so sorry ! But 
General Pinkney! — Joe, that old man nearly 
went distracted. He rushed downstairs and 
sent somebody — they said the furnace man 
or somebody in the basement — out to a 
chemist for some oil and things to bind it up 
with. It doesn’t hurt so much now.” 
“ What’s this ? ” asked Joe, taking the 
