Miss Charity Crackbone was a spinster; not that she ever 'spun street yarn.' Oh no! but she spun tremendous long 'yarns' with her tongue, and had spun out forty years of her life in single blessedness, in a shop at the corner of Pin Alley, where you could purchase, for a consideration, gingerbread and shoe-blacking, hooks-and-eyes and cholera pills, razors and sugar candy, crackers and castor-oil, head-brushes and butter, small tooth combs and molasses.

"Not having sufficient employment in superintending her own affairs, she very philanthropically undertook to manage those of her neighbors; and, like all persons of weak intellect, had an astonishing memory for little things; could tell you the very hour, of the very day, of the very week, and month, and year, you were born; how long you were employed in cutting your first tooth, what tailoress had the honor of introducing you into jacket and trowsers, and when you put on your first long-tail coat.

"Miss Charity's 'outward man' was not remarkably felicitous; her figure much resembling a barber's pole in its proportions. She generally preferred dresses of the flabbiest possible material, and a very tight fit; so that her projecting bones were no mystery, and as the skirt lacked two or three inches of reaching the ground, it revealed a pair of feet and ankles evidently intended more for use than ornament. Her hair was the color of a dirty blanket, and her eyes bore a strong resemblance to a drop of indigo in a pan of buttermilk.

"'Good morning, Charity,' said a fellow gossip; 'such a budget of news!'

"Charity dropped her knitting-work, seized one chair for her visitor, and placed herself on another in front of her, with both elbows on her knees, and her face as near Miss Pettingill's as possible, lest she should lose a word; exclaiming,

"'For the land's sake, make haste and begin. Who did what? The cat's tail pointed north this morning, and I knew it was the fore-end of a runner of something.'

"'I declare, I don't know which end to begin,' said Pettingill; 'such a piece of work! This is a wicked, abominable world, Charity. You know that Mrs. Clark?'

"'Land alive! don't I though? Wasn't I the first one to tell that her husband ran off and left her; and that she was a flirt and extravagant? Not that I knew she was, myself, but I heard tell so, and what you hear said is most always true. Besides, she's pretty, and that's always against a woman, as you and I know, Pettingill. Who ever heard any body talk against us?' and she set her arms a-kimbo as if 'pistols for two' would be sent for, if they did! 'Well, what has the creature done now, Pettingill?'

"'Why, you know she boards at Deacon Ephraim Snow's—I wonder at his having her in his house, and he a deacon too. But you know Mrs. Clark has 'mazin pretty ways with her, and she's got round him somehow. Well, you know I do washing for his wife, and speaking of that, she's horrid stingy of her soap. Well, t'other day she sent me up garret, as it rained, to hang up the clothes, and as I went by Mrs. Clark's room, it struck me I'd just peep into the key-hole and listen a bit.' Here Charity drew up her chair so close that the tips of their noses met; saying, in a hoarse whisper,

"'What did you see?'

"'La! don't frighten me so,' said Pettingill; 'your eyes look like a cat's in the dark! I saw a very fine-looking gentleman—'

"'I'll warrant it,' said Charity, with a triumphant chuckle.

"'And I heard him say, 'Edith, dear—'

"Here Charity pushed back her chair and rolled up the whites of her eyes like a duck in a thunderstorm.

"'Edith dear,' says he, 'rely upon me; never heed these slanderous stories; I will be your protector.' There, Charity, what do you think of that?'

"'She is a church-member,' said Charity, thoughtfully, 'isn't she? keep quiet, and watch her, the hypocrite! Did you say anything about it to Mrs. Snow, or the deacon!'

"'Not I,' said Pettingill; 'it would have fetched me out, you know, for listening; but I'm convinced the man has a 'canister' motive in going there.'

"'Sinister,' said Charity, reprovingly, who considered herself a scholar.

"'Well, canister or sinister, it makes no difference to me,' said Pettingill. 'I know what I think of her. It's no use talking to the Snow's; they won't believe anything against her.'

"'That's very true,' said Mrs. Snow, who had entered unperceived, and heard a great part of their conversation. 'Mrs. Clark has been with us six months, and is blameless and correct in her deportment. She has been shamefully ill-treated and slandered by her husband, as I know, and the gentleman about whom you were getting up such a fine story is her brother, who has just returned from Europe. When he said he 'would protect her,' he intended to be as good as his word; and for your own sakes I would advise you to bear it in mind. I have the pleasure to wish you both good-morning.'

"'There's a tempest in a thimble,' said Charity, as she drew a long breath.

"'Ain't it, though!' said Pettingill. 'But I'll warrant we shall catch her tripping yet. These 'grass widows,' you know.'

"'Yes,' said Charity—'and so pretty, too. I never saw a pretty woman that behaved herself."