Manning’s letter. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. ” “I thought I explained—” “Come home!” Ann Veronica shrugged her shoulders. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. ” She laughed. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. " "What does it signify?" returned the latter, angrily. CHAPTER VII.
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