ON THE LEVELS Not the least of many mysteries in the natural history of the Cartwrights was, how they all managed to bestow themselves in the house which they occupied.

To be sure, the family--omitting Mr.Cartwright, seldom at home--were all of one sex, which perhaps made the difficulty less insuperable; but the fact remained that Mrs.Cartwright and her five grown-up daughters, together with a maid-servant, lived, moved, and had their being in an abode consisting of six rooms, a cellar, and a lumber closet.

A few years ago they had occupied a much more roomy dwelling on the edge of the aristocratic region of Dunfield; though not strictly in St.Luke's--the Belgravia of the town--they of course spoke of it as if it were.

A crisis in the fortunes of the family had necessitated a reduction of their establishment; the district in which they now dwelt was humbler, but then it could always be described as 'near North Parade, you know'; North Parade being an equivalent of Mayfair.

The uppermost windows commanded a view of the extensive cattle-market, of a long railway viaduct, and of hilly fields beyond.
The five Misses Cartwright did not greatly relish the change; they were disposed even to resist, to hold their ground on the verge of St.
Luke's, to toll their father that he must do his duty and still maintain them in that station of life for which they were clearly designed by Providence.