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Mrs. Bazalgette's was the letter of a smooth woman, who has hoarded
imperishable spite. She reminded her niece after all these years, that
her marriage with David was an act of disobedience and ingratitude. She
then enumerated her own heavy expenses, all but the L. 400 a year she
spent in bedizening her carcass, and finally, amidst a multitude of petty
insults, she offered to relieve Mrs. Dodd of--Julia. Now Poetry has
reconciled us to an asp in a basket of figs; but here was a scorpion in a
bundle of nettles. Poor Mrs. Dodd could not speak after reading it. She
handed it to Edward, and laid her white forehead wearily in her hand.
Edward put the letter in an envelope and sent it back with a line in his
own hand declining all further correspondence with the writer.
"Now then, ladies," said he, "don't you be cast down. Let this be a
warning to us, never to ask favours of anybody. Let us look the thing in
the face; we must work or starve: and all the better for us. Hard work
suits heavy hearts. Come, have you any plan?"
"To be sure we have," said Julia eagerly.


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