"A remarkable sort of vicar you'd make, and pretty sermons you'd preach if you had the chance.

What time does this performance of yours begin to-night ?" "At eight, I believe." "Well, then, I'll just go in and tell cook to let us have dinner a quarter of an hour earlier than usual," said Aunt Charlotte, as she folded up her work.

"The omnibus from the 'Peacock' will get you into town in plenty of time, and the walk back afterwards will do you good." * * * * * The town in question was about a couple of miles from the village where Austin lived--a clean, cheerful, prosperous little borough, with plenty of good shops, a commodious theatre, several churches and chapels, and a fine market.

Dinner was soon disposed of, and as the omnibus which plied between the two places clattered and rattled along at a good speed--having to meet the seven-fifty down-train at the railway station--he was able to post his aunt's precious letter and slip into his stall in the dress-circle before the curtain rose.

The orchestra was rioting through a composition called 'The Clang o' the Wooden Shoon,' as an appropriate introduction to a tragedy the scene of which was laid in Nineveh; the house seemed fairly full, and the air was heavy with that peculiar smell, a sort of doubtfully aromatic stuffiness, which is so grateful to the nostrils of playgoers.