brewage, and, obtaining nothing of the kind, went off in an exceedingly bad humor.

Three of them left the door open, and the other two pulled it so spitefully in going out that the little bell played the very deuce with Hepzibah’s nerves. A round, bustling, fire-ruddy housewife of the neighborhood burst breathless into the shop, fiercely demanding yeast; and when the poor gentlewoman, with her cold shyness of manner, gave her hot customer to understand that she did not keep the article, this very capable housewife took upon herself to administer a regular rebuke.

“A cent-shop, and No yeast!” quoth she; “that will never do! Who ever heard of such a thing? Your loaf will never rise, no more than mine will to-day. You had better shut up shop at once.”