others richly deserved retaliation.  The various tricks which she had played upon certain cross old spinsters, tattlers, scandal-mongers, and backbiters, often were the theme of conversation and of mirth:  but this description of espieglerie contains a most serious objection; which is, that to carry on a successful and well-arranged plot, there must be a total disregard of truth.  Latterly, Miss Fanny had had no one to practise upon except Mr Ramsden, during the period of his courtship—­a period at which women never appear to so much advantage, nor men appear so silly.  But even for this, the time was past, as latterly she had become so much attached to him that distress on his part was a source of annoyance to herself.  When, therefore, her father came home, narrating the circumstances which had occurred, and the plan which had been meditated, Fanny entered gaily into the scheme.  Mrs Forster had long been her abhorrence; and an insult to Mr Ramsden, who had latterly been designated by Mrs Forster as a “Pill-gilding Puppy,” was not to be forgotten.  Her active and inventive mind immediately conceived a plan which would enable her to carry the joke much further than the original projectors had intended.  Ramsden, who had been summoned to attend poor Mr Spinney, was her sole confidant, and readily entered into a scheme which was pleasing to his mistress, and promised revenge for the treatment he had received; and which, as Miss Dragwell declared, would be nothing but retributive justice upon Mrs Forster.

Late in the evening, a message was received from Newton Forster, requesting that Mr Ramsden would attend his mother.  He had just visited the old clerk, who was now sensible, and had nothing to complain of except a deep cut on his temple from the rim of the pewter-pot.  After receiving a few parting injunctions from Miss Dragwell, Mr Ramsden quitted the parsonage.

“I am afraid it’s a very bad business, Mr Forster,” replied the surgeon to Newton, who had been interrogating him relative to the injury received by Mr Spinney.

“Evident concussion of the brain; he may live—­or he may not; a few days will decide the point:  he is a poor feeble old man.”

Newton sighed as he reflected upon the disaster and disgrace which might ensue from his mother’s violence of temper.

“Eh! what, Mr Ramsden?” said Nicholas, who had been for some time contemplating the battered visage of his spouse.  “Did you say she’ll die?”

“No, no, Mr Forster, there’s no fear of Mrs Forster, she’ll do well enough.  She’ll be up and about again in a day or two, as lively as ever.”

“God forbid!” muttered the absent Nicholas.

“Mr Forster, see if I don’t pay you off for that, as soon as I’m up again,” muttered the recumbent lady, as well as the bandages passed under her chin would permit her.