The Mount Severns are going, and West Lynne is in a fever, racing after tickets.

I suppose you have got a--a cap," looking at the nondescript article decorating his sister's head, "that will be suitable to go in, Cornelia; if not you had better order one." This suggestion put up Miss Carlyle.

"Hadn't you better have your hair curled, and your coat tails lined with white satin, and a gold opera-glass, and a cocked hat ?" retorted she.

"My gracious me! A fine new cap to go to their mess of a concert in, after paying ten shillings for the tickets! The world's coming to something." Mr.Carlyle left her and her grumbling to return to the office.

Lord Mount Severn's carriage was passing at the moment, and Isabel Vane was within it.