her to straighten her back and furtively raise her head, with an easy upward motion, as of a cork alighted in water, above the level of the looking-glass on her left hand—­an action she repeated, with a solemn aspect, four times; at which point Gainsford gave way.  The ladies accorded him every extenuation for the offence.  They themselves, but for the heroism of exalted natures, must have succumbed to the gross temptation.  “It is difficult, dear papa, to bring one’s mind to religious thoughts in her company, even when she is quiescent,” they said.  Thus, by the prettiest exercise of charity that can be conceived, they pleaded for the man Gainsford, while they struck a blow at Mrs. Chump; and in performing one of the virtues laid down by religion, proved their enemy to be hostile to its influences.

Mrs. Chump was this morning very late.  The office of morning reader was new to Mr. Pole, who had undertaken it, when first Squire of Brookfield, at the dictate of the ladies his daughters; so that, waiting with the book before him and his audience expectant, he lacked composure, spoke irritably in an under-breath of ‘that woman,’ and asked twice whether she was coming or not.  At last the clump of her feet was heard approaching.  Mr. Pole commenced reading the instant she opened the door.  She stood there, with a face like a petrified Irish outcry.  An imploring sound of “Pole!  Pole!” issued from her.  Then she caught up one hand to her mouth, and rolled her head, in evident anguish at the necessitated silence.  A convulsion passed along the row of maids, two of whom dipped to their aprons; but the ladies gazed with a sad consciousness of wicked glee at the disgust she was exciting in the bosom of their father.

“Will you shut the door?” Mr. Pole sternly addressed Mrs. Chump, at the conclusion of the first prayer.

“Pole! ye know that money ye gave me in notes?  I must speak, Pole!”

“Shut the door.”

Mrs. Chump let go the door-handle with a moan.  The door was closed by Gainsford, now one of the gravest of footmen.  A chair was placed for her, and she sat down, desperately watching the reader for the fall of his voice.  The period was singularly protracted.  The ladies turned to one another, to question with an eyelid why it was that extra allowance was given that morning.  Mr. Pole was in a third prayer, stumbling on and picking himself up, apparently unaware that he had passed the limit.  This continued until the series of ejaculations which accompanied him waxed hotter—­little muffled shrieks of:  “Oh!—­Deer—­Oh, Lard!—­When will he stop?  Oh, mercy!  Och!  And me burrstin’ to speak!—­Oh! what’ll I do?  I can’t keep ‘t in!—­Pole! ye’re kill’n me—­Oh, deer!  I’ll be sayin’ somethin’ to vex the prophets presently.  Pole!”

If it was a race that he ran with Mrs. Chump, Mr. Pole was beaten.  He came to a sudden stop.

Mrs. Chump had become too deeply absorbed in her impatience to notice the change in his tone; and when he said, “Now then, to breakfast, quick!” she was pursuing her lamentable interjections.  At sight of the servants trooping forth, she jumped up and ran to the door.