CHAPTER XXVIII.
MY BORROWING NEIGHBOR.
"I THINK, my dear," said I to my husband one day, "that we shall have to move from here." "Why so ?" asked Mr.Smith, in surprise.

"It is a very comfortable house.

I am certain we will not get another as desirable at the same rent." "I don't know that we will.

But--" Just as I said this, my cook opened the door of the room where we were sitting and said-- "Mrs.Jordon, ma'am, wants to borrow half a pound of butter.

She says, they are entirely out, and their butter-man won't come before to-morrow." "Very well, Bridget, let her have it." The cook retired.
"Why do you wish to move, Jane ?" asked my husband, as the girl closed the door.
"Cook's visit was quite apropos," I replied.