CHAPTER II.

PREPARATIONS.

A FEW days after this Sunday visit, Agnes came round to see Letty, and informed her that the day was set for the wedding.

"I was going to ask you to be bridesmaid, Letty; but mother thought you wouldn't like it, on account of your being in mourning, and all that."

"I understand," said Letty, quietly, as Agnes made rather an awkward pause. "Aunt was quite right. I have no nice dress but a black one,—which would not be at all suitable for a bridesmaid, you know."

"To be sure," said Agnes, briskly, as though relieved from some embarrassment. "That was what we thought. So I have asked Martha Allen. When will you come up and see my dresses, Letty? They are all done,—wedding-dress and all. Mother has been really liberal, I can tell you. She says she is determined that I shall be as nice-looking as a bride the doctor has married this year; and my wedding-dress is lovely,—light blue silk, with short sleeves and a low neck,—blue is so becoming to me, you know,—and a veil, and white flowers for my hair. Won't it be splendid?"

"Very pretty," replied Letty; "but, after all, Agnes, I should rather have bought something which would be useful afterwards. What can you do with such a dress as that?"

"Why, you know, it will do nicely for an evening dress, for a long time; and then it can be coloured. One must have evening dresses, you know."

Letty did not answer. She did not see the necessity of evening dresses for any person in Agnes's position.

"Then I have a black watered-silk, and a plaid silk, and a merino, and a travelling-dress—"

"Travelling-dress!" repeated Letty. "Are you going to travel?"

"Yes; to be sure, child. We are going down East, to see Joseph's friends. When we come back, we are going to the 'Oak House,' to board for the winter. Two weeks from to-day, and then good-by to the old shop forever! But tell me: when will you come up and see my dresses?"

"Saturday afternoon or evening, perhaps," replied Letty. She continued her sewing, thoughtfully, while Agnes chattered on about all sorts of things,—principally about her dresses, and the furniture for their two rooms at the "Oak House," which Joseph had already purchased, and the fine times she expected to have,—boarding, with nothing to do but to amuse herself all day long. Presently she noticed Letty's work.

"What a pile of new muslin!" said she. "Some one has a good piece of work cut out, to make up all this. What very nice cloth it is! I wonder how much Mrs. Trescott gave for it?"

"Fourteen cents a yard," answered Letty. "She bought it for me a few days ago."

"For you!" repeated Agnes, in surprise. "Does Mrs. Trescott do your shopping for you?"

"Sometimes, when I ask her," replied Letty. "She is a better judge than I am, and purchases so much that she gets things to advantage. So, when I need any thing of this kind, I generally ask her to buy it for me. I think this is very nice indeed."

"What is it for?" asked Agnes.

"Pillow-cases," replied Letty, colouring a very little.

"Well, I declare, you are prudent, Letty," said Agnes, laughing. "You mean to begin in good time. I have not bought an article of that kind, yet. I shall have plenty of time when we are boarding to make up such things. How nice and pleasant your kitchen looks! You will make a real good housekeeper,—that's a fact."

"It will not be for the want of good training if I don't," said Letty. "Mrs. Trescott has taken a great deal of pains to teach me; and she is the nicest housekeeper I ever saw."

"I have heard that she was close," remarked Agnes.

"She is economical, but not stingy," said Letty. "She makes the most of things, and will not allow a bit of waste; but she always buys the best, and plenty of it."

"Well, come up on Saturday and see my things," said Agnes.

Letty promised,—and went accordingly. She found her cousin in a bad humour.

"Only think, Letty!" said Agnes. "Martha Allen has gone and bought a blue silk, just the colour of mine, and a great deal handsomer! Hers is corded, and cost two dollars a yard; while mine is only plain silk. She will put me out entirely. Every one will think she is the bride. Isn't it vexatious? I declare, I have a great mind not to be married at all."

"I am glad Joseph does not hear you," said Letty.

"It must have taken all her wages, so that she won't have any thing else decent to wear all winter: that is one comfort," said Agnes, spitefully. "But isn't it vexatious? Now, wouldn't you be vexed, if you were me?"

"I think I should," said Letty; "not for fear of being outshone, but because it does not show a very kind spirit in Martha, after you have been intimate so long. But I am sure, Agnes, your dress is pretty enough for any thing, only so very delicate."

"It is delicate," said Mrs. Train, with something like a sigh. "I was rather unwilling to buy it; but Agnes had set her heart upon it; and, after all, girls don't often get married but once, and I want her to look pretty. You would have looked out for something more useful, I dare say."

Letty thought she should, but said that people must be their own judges in such matters.

"Here is something which will please you better:—this plaid silk," continued Mrs. Train. "Try it on, Agnes, and let Letty see how nicely it fits."

But Agnes would not try it on. Martha's corded silk had put her out of humour with all her own things. She declared that the plaid silk was poor, thin stuff, and looked more like domestic gingham than any thing else; the black silk was only fit for an old woman; and as for the blue, she hated the very sight of it. She wished she had never seen it. She wished she had laid out her money for useful things, like Letty. Where was the use of trying to dress, when some one else was perfectly sure to go beyond you?

"Where, indeed?" said Letty. "But, Agnes, some one is always sure to go beyond you, dress as much as you will. I know I thought Mrs. Trescott's cashmere shawl the very handsomest thing I ever saw till old Mrs. Trescott came; and hers was so much better that it made her daughter's look positively ordinary. I had the curiosity one day to ask Miss Catherine how much it cost; and she said she supposed about 'a thousand dollars.'"

"A thousand dollars!" echoed Mrs. Train and Agnes, in tones of amazement; and Mrs. Train added, "I wish I had half as much as that in the bank, for these children to begin the world upon."

"Yes, indeed: it would be a nice little fortune for one of us," continued Letty. "You know I went to Saratoga once with Mrs. Trescott and Miss Catherine, when Miss Emily was alive. Miss Catherine was anxious—as any young girl would be—to have pretty things to wear; but Mrs. Trescott only laughed, and said, 'You will see so much more dress than you could possibly put on, Kitty, that you will care nothing at all about your own.' And so it proved. Some of the ladies must have spent their whole time in dressing, I think; for they never wore the same dress twice. I heard one lady's maid say that her mistress had brought forty different dresses."

"Only think!" said Agnes. "I always envied you that time."

"You needn't," said Letty, sighing; "for it was a very sad time. We all hoped the water and the pure air would do Emily so much good;—and for a few days she did seem to revive; but she soon was down again, and there was the last hope gone. One could not care much for fine dress and display, with such a sufferer all the time before one's eyes. It used to seem cruel to me, sometimes, to see the people so gay, and hear the band playing, when that dear child was lying almost senseless for hours, or only reviving to fall into another convulsion.

"Some of them were very kind, too. That very lady who had the forty dresses, and who you would think, to see her, cared for nothing else, came to ask Mrs. Trescott if there was any thing she could do to help her; and she cried over Emily as if her heart would break. She told Mrs. Trescott that she had lost two little girls, about Emily's age, three or four years before."

"But do you think, Letty, that people who dress so much really think more about it than others?"

"Yes," replied Letty. "I know they must, unless they are very rich indeed. It takes all their time and thoughts. We had two young ladies staying at our house last winter, who went out a great deal. They were not rich, and made their own dresses; and I never saw them busy with any thing else as long as they stayed. It was a pair of undersleeves to be trimmed, or a flounce to alter, or a thin jacket to be made up,—from morning till night. I know they kept me busy doing up and ironing out, till I wished they were gone. Mrs. Trescott used to try to get them to read, and to be interested about poor people, and so on; but no: they never had any time! Mr. Trescott said, once, it was a pity they had not been apprenticed to a milliner, so as to turn their love of finery to some good account."

Agnes had recovered from her ill humour by this time. She now insisted on trying on all her dresses,—for Letty to see. Letty tried to enter into the spirit of the occasion,—admired and criticized, was laughed at for her ignorance of the fashions, and laughed in her turn.

She finally left Agnes in high spirits, well pleased with every thing, and, apparently, fully convinced that marriage was going to be a cure for "all the ills that flesh is heir to," and looking forward to nothing but sunshine for the rest of her life. No thought of responsibility, no consideration of the sacredness of the engagement into which she had entered, seemed able to divert her attention for a moment. She especially exulted in the idea that she—the youngest of her set—was to be married first of all. "It will be a long time before Martha Allen will get such a good-looking husband, for all her corded silk," were her last words to her cousin.

Letty walked homeward, feeling rather sadly. She had seen too much of fine dresses to be dazzled by Agnes's preparations. She was sorry to see her spending money so foolishly; and she had a feeling that such an expensive wedding was not a very good beginning for two young people who had nothing in the world beforehand. She was sure all this must straiten her aunt very much, with her small income. She was oppressed, too, with Agnes's giddiness. It seemed to her that if ever a girl ought to think seriously, to review her own faults and deficiencies, to feel the need of divine guidance and support, it should be in the week before her wedding-day. She had tried to say something of this kind to her cousin; but Agnes cut her short with a laugh.

"Come, now, Letty; don't preach! You are as bad as Mrs. Willson herself; and I dare say you will look just like her when you are as old,—spectacles and all. One would think I was going to be buried, instead of married."

"I think one is nearly as serious a matter as the other, for my part," said Letty.

"Well, I really believe you do. I wouldn't be so solemn for any thing. I should have no comfort in life if I were always looking at every thing on the shady side. That is always the way with you religious people. You don't take any comfort yourselves, and you don't mean any one else should take any, if you can help it. For my part, I mean to enjoy life all I can, while I have a chance. Trouble comes soon enough, without making it for oneself."

This seemed rather absurd, coming from one who a few minutes before had wished she was not going to be married at all, because Martha Allen had a more expensive dress than her own. Letty saw, however, that it was of no use to try to make any impression upon her cousin at present, and so abandoned the attempt.

"It isn't worth while to talk to her, Letty," said Mrs. Train. "Girls will be girls. She will get sobered fast enough when she comes to know a little of the real cares of life."

The wedding took place at the time appointed, and was a gay affair. Letty wondered, as she looked round upon the dresses of Agnes's companions, how much money they could have left for necessaries. Agnes looked very pretty, and was wonderfully serious for her,—which Letty was very glad to see.

She hoped her cousin realized at last what she was about to do. But Agnes's seriousness proceeded from a very different feeling. She was annoyed and mortified past all endurance. In fact, she was the victim of a conspiracy as spiteful as it was silly. She had boasted a good deal of her wedding preparations; and half a dozen of her companions had determined to revenge themselves by playing her a trick and outdressing her even on her wedding-day.

Martha Allen's corded silk was the beginning of her troubles. But there was Julia Jones in white silk, and Amelia Riley in a beautiful silk-tissue robe with flounces to the waist, and Jane Wilkins in moiré antique (it was not absolutely genuine, perhaps, but looked just as well by candle-light), and half a dozen others, all better dressed than the bride! After all her pains and all her talk!—that was the worst of it. Agnes was quite eclipsed, and that at her own wedding!

To every one but Agnes, the evening seemed to pass off very nicely. The supper was abundant and handsome,—far too much so, Letty thought, as she remembered how her aunt would have to pinch her already spare housekeeping to pay for all these nice things.

Joseph appeared remarkably well. He was good-looking and well dressed, and had very good, though rather stiff, manners; and Letty was especially pleased with his politeness and kindness to his mother-in-law.

Mrs. Train looked tired and sad, as though she found it hard at last to give away her only child; but when any one spoke to her on the subject she expressed herself perfectly satisfied—not to say delighted—with the match.

Letty felt herself, in her plain black dress and crape collar and sleeves, almost out of place in the midst of all this gayety, and was tempted to wish she had not come, especially as she knew very few of the guests. She determined, however, not to be a damper on any one, and exerted herself to talk and be agreeable; in which she succeeded so well that a good many people asked Agnes who that pretty girl in black could be, with such pleasing manners.

Martha Allen took pains to whisper to a number of her friends that Letty was only a servant-girl at Mrs. Trescott's; but this information did not prevent her from receiving a great deal more attention and admiration than she cared for,—especially as she saw that John was looking glum and uncomfortable. Mrs. Train begged her to stay as long as possible; and she could not well refuse.

But as all things come to an end at last, so did this evening; and Letty and John set out for a quiet walk homeward through the moonlight. John was rather silent; and Letty, after two or three attempts to talk, became silent too. At last John roused himself, and asked Letty how she had enjoyed the evening.

"Not very well," said Letty. "I was glad when it was over."

"Were you?" said John. "I thought you seemed to be having a very lively time."

"Of course I felt obliged to exert myself to entertain aunt's company," said Letty. "What else could I do?"

"It seemed to come uncommonly easy, I thought," returned John. "I never saw you so lively. I hardly knew you."

"I don't think you did," said Letty, dryly. "What would you have me do?"

John was not prepared with an answer.

"John," said Letty, "we have never had a quarrel,—have we?"

"No."

"Then do you think it best to begin?"

"I am a fool, Letty! That is the long and short of the matter. But tell me: do you like such a fuss about a wedding?"

"No, indeed!" replied Letty, with emphasis. "I think the more quietly such an affair is managed, the better. I should never wish to have company on my hands at such a time. I should want all my thoughts about me. But people have their own ideas about such things; and, so long as there is nothing really wrong in it, one likes to help them enjoy themselves in their own way. For my part, I should like to go to church and be married in the morning, go straight to my own house, take off my wedding-dress, and begin getting dinner."

The picture conjured up by Letty's words entirely dissipated the remains of John's ill humour. He amused himself with imagining all sorts of difficulties and disasters to Letty's first dinner, until she cut him short by reminding him that she was serving an apprenticeship under an excellent teacher, and might therefore be considered as fully prepared to set up for herself as soon as she should be out of her time.

They parted as good friends as ever; and John went home congratulating himself on his good fortune, and wondering what he had ever done to deserve such a girl as Letty for his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Emerson departed on their bridal tour, and were gone a week. On their return they went to their lodgings at the "Oak House," where Letty went to see her cousin. She found Agnes in a room in the third story, which looked over a back-yard, and had a little dark bedroom adjoining it. The room was well furnished with a haircloth-covered sofa, and chairs, a showy centre-table, and a dressing-bureau,— whose presence in the parlour Agnes explained by saying that there was no room for it in the bedroom.

Agnes was in high spirits, and expatiated on the delights of boarding, where she had no cares, and nothing to do from morning till night, except to please herself.

"It must seem odd to have so much time upon your hands," said Letty. "You will certainly be able to accomplish a great deal of sewing."

"Not I!" said Agnes, laughing. "I have done sewing enough lately to last me all my life. Joe was talking about some new shirts yesterday; but I begged him, for goodness' sake, not to begin about them yet. I hate the very sight of a needle!"

"Do you read, then? Surely you don't sit here all day and do nothing?"

"Yes, I read a good deal, of one thing and another. Mrs. Smith has lent me 'The Black Robber;' and she is going to let me have the 'Red Bandit,' when she has finished it."

Letty laughed. "Then I suppose you will have the 'Blue Corsair;' and what next? The 'Pink Shoplifter,' or the 'Straw-coloured Pickpocket'?"

Agnes laughed too. But she seemed somewhat annoyed when her cousin added, more soberly,—

"But really, now, Agnes, do you think it a good plan to spend one's time in reading such books?"

"You don't mean to say you think it wicked to read stories: do you?"

"No," replied Letty. "Of course not. That would be entirely too sweeping. But there is as much difference in stories as in people; and, seriously, I do think that a great many of these trashy novels, especially those translated from the French, are hardly fit to light the fire with. They mix up right and wrong, good and evil, till one cannot tell which is which, and make heroes out of men who, in real life, one would wish to have sent to the State prison or the workhouse as quickly as possible. Moreover, a great many of them are positively shameful and indecent."

"Oh, Letty! You are so precise! I do believe you never do the least thing without stopping to consider whether it is right or wrong. What is the comfort of living in that way?"

"What is the comfort of living in any other way?" asked Letty. "Even if this world were all, I believe it would be the best plan; but when one reflects that it is only the preparation for another—"

"Now, Letty, you know I won't stand preaching. I have had enough of that from Mrs. Willson. Do you know, she and the doctor came to see me, and gave me such a lecture on my duties as scared me half out of my wits? One would have thought, to hear them, that I had taken more responsibilities upon myself than if I had been made President of the United States. I am sure I never should have dared to be married, if I had thought of all he said beforehand. I was glad to see them, too; and the doctor made me a beautiful present,—that Bible there on the stand; but they made me so low-spirited that I almost wished they had stayed away."

"But, Agnes, did you never think of these things before you were married?"

"No, indeed; and I don't mean to do it now. Time enough for trouble when it comes, I always say; and so does Joseph. He says he intends to live his life as he goes along. The world owes him a good time, he says; and he means to have it."

Letty sighed, and took her leave, not very well satisfied with the result of her visit. Agnes seemed more giddy than ever; and Letty thought the idle life she was now leading a poor preparation for the cares of a family.

She saw little of Agnes through the winter; but she heard from Mrs. Train of her being out a good deal, though she seldom found time to visit her mother.

Mrs. Train looked thin and worn; and Letty feared she was working too hard, and living too sparingly, trying to save the cost of the wedding-party.

Her own winter passed very quietly. She was kept pretty busy, between her work for Mrs. Trescott and her own sewing, and went out but little. John, too, was very closely employed. Business was flourishing, and he often worked over-hours: so that he had not as many evenings to spend with Letty as formerly. But Letty knew these busy evenings were all for her sake; and she was not inclined to complain.

One afternoon early in spring, Agnes came in to see Letty, and found her busy ironing.

"How pleasant this room is!" was her first remark. "I never saw any one keep a kitchen as nicely as you do. I have seen many a parlour not half so comfortable."

Agnes was right. Many a splendidly furnished drawing-room is not half as inviting as Letty's kitchen was. A bright fire was burning in the stove, the doors of which were open. Letty's plants in the window were in a state of bloom and verdure which seemed something wonderful as contrasted with the wintry landscape outside. Not an article was soiled or out of place; not a speck showed itself upon the painted floor. A superb tortoiseshell cat sat dozing before the fire.

Letty herself, in her lilac calico and white apron, neat from top to toe, looked just fit to be the presiding genius of this temple of peace and good will. She welcomed her cousin warmly, and displaced Mrs. Trescott's Skye terrier to give her a comfortable seat.

"What a washing you have!" said Agnes, looking at the well-filled baskets, and then at the neatly folded towels and sheets on the bars. "Washing on Friday, too!"

"Our people are away; and I thought it would be a good time to wash and do up my own things."

"You don't mean to say that all these things are your own!" said Agnes, in surprise. "All these sheets and things! How many are there?"

"Six pairs of sheets, and as many pillow-cases, besides the towels and my own underclothes," replied Letty, with some pride. "See what nice sheeting."

"It is nice," said Agnes, examining the quality. "These sheets will last a lifetime. Mrs. Trescott must be very generous to give you such a setting-out."

"She has been very generous," replied Letty; "but she did not give me these things. They were all bought and paid for out of my own pocket."

"Why, Letty Bright!" exclaimed Agnes, in amazement. "Where in the world did you get the money?"

"I earned it," replied Letty, smiling. "There was not so very much, after all; only it makes a good deal of show, laid out in such things. That whole pile of sheets did not cost as much as your blue silk dress."

"My dress cost only seventeen dollars," said Agnes.

"Well, those sheets cost nine dollars, and the pillow-cases four;—that is thirteen dollars. That piece of huckaback cost two dollars, and the crash one:—sixteen dollars in all." *

* These were current prices at the time of our story.

"But these fine towels, Letty; I am sure you never got them for any such sum!"

"Oh, those were a present," said Letty. "I should never think of buying such for myself. You see they are not quite new. A very old lady, an aunt of Mrs. Trescott's, was here in the winter. I used to wash and starch her caps (she was very particular about her caps), and do a good many other things for her; and, hearing that I was going to be married, she sent me these towels and two nice table-cloths. See what beautiful old-fashioned damask they are,—all marked with her maiden-name in cross-stitch."

"I see," said Agnes. "But you must have laid out your money to good advantage, Letty, to get so much out of it. John won't have to buy any thing of the kind."

"I felt as though that was my part."

"Well, I suppose it is a good plan. But has not Mrs. Trescott given you any thing?"

"Oh, yes. She gave me a nice broché shawl, which was Miss Maria's, and two of her dresses,—a black silk and a French calico,—besides some handkerchiefs, and things of that sort. Miss Catherine gave me a beautiful all-wool delaine, with the things to make it; and I am to have it made up at her dressmaker's. Mrs. Trescott says she means to give me my wedding-dress; and I suppose she will bring it from the city with her. They have gone down to meet Mr. Trescott. She has given me a nice set of white china tea-things, too,—nice enough for any one,—which she says I am to consider as a legacy from Miss Emily. Let me show them to you."

Agnes looked on and admired, perhaps envied a little, as Letty displayed her treasures, which were indeed very handsome. She was especially delighted with the shawl.

"It is a perfect beauty,—almost as handsome as a cashmere, and as good as new. I should not think it had been worn at all. But, I must say, I wonder at her giving away Miss Maria's things, even to you. I should think Miss Trescott would have them."

"You know I was here all the time Miss Maria was sick, and helped take care of her," said Letty; "and Miss Emily was almost like my own."

"How much trouble they have had!" remarked Agnes. "After all, riches don't save people from sorrow: do they?"

"No, indeed; but the Trescotts have had something better than money to comfort them. Nobody could see Miss Maria for two hours and not know that she was fitter for heaven than earth. And when she came to die, she had no more fear than if she were just going from one room into another. I think they feel about her more as if she were gone on a journey, than as if she were dead. Their religion is more real to them than that of any one I ever saw, except Aunt Eunice. I shall always feel thankful that I was directed to such a family. If I ever come to any good, it will have been through their means."

"You have lived here a long time," remarked Agnes. "How many years?"

"Eight years this spring."

"That is a long time for a girl to live in one place, now-a-days; but every girl does not get such an easy one."

"I don't think it would be called an easy place by most people," said Letty. "We have always had a great deal of sickness and a great deal of company; and Mrs. Trescott is very particular. She will have every thing done just exactly right. Many a time I have had to wash the windows over after I thought I had done them to perfection; and many a shirt and tablecloth she has put back into the wash because it was a little wrinkled or had a speck ironed into it. It was very vexatious at first, I must say; but I fell into her ways after a while, and found it just as easy to do my work well as to slight it."

"A great many girls would not have borne it," remarked Agnes. "They would have got mad and gone home."

"Perhaps I should, if I had had any home to go to," replied Letty; "but, then, there was Sally. What would have become of her if I had left my work for every trifle? So I stayed on, and I had my reward. I have learned to do every thing about the house in the very best way. And, then, I am like one of the family. No own father could be kinder than Mr. Trescott. I am so glad he is coming home in time!"

"Well," said Agnes, with a sigh, "I am sure I hope you will be happy; but, I can tell you, you will have trials. Marriage is not a state of perfect blessedness, by any means."

"I never supposed it was," said Letty. "There is no such thing as perfect blessedness in this world. But I should think you had gone on so far with as few trials as fall to the lot of most people."

"I never knew what trouble was when I was at home," replied Agnes, with another deep sigh.

"I fancy you don't know a great deal about it now."

"Only think! Here is Joseph insisting on our going to housekeeping next month!" continued Agnes, disregarding the interruption. "He says that he wants a home of his own, and that boarding as we do costs too much. And we cannot afford even to keep a little girl: so I shall have every bit of the work to do myself. I might as well be a kitchen-girl at once."

"But, Agnes, what did you expect, when you married a poor man, but to do your own work?" asked Letty, surprised. "I never looked forward to any thing else."

"Well, I did. Just look at Grace Lennox! She keeps a girl all the time; and her husband gets no better wages than Joseph or John."

"Grace has property of her own," said Letty. "Her grandfather gave her a thousand dollars and the place they live in. That makes a great difference. With only his wages to depend upon, I don't wonder that Joseph does not feel like hiring anybody. I should think you would like the idea of having a house and managing every thing in your own way. I am sure I do. When I sit here alone in the evening, I imagine myself in my own house, washing up the breakfast things after John has gone to his work, and then putting on my bonnet and running up to market, till I grow quite excited about it."

"You were brought up to work," said Agnes, peevishly. "That makes all the difference in the world."

"And weren't you?"

"Not to that kind of work. Mother always did every thing about the house. I want her to break up housekeeping and come and live with us; but she won't. She talks over some nonsense about young folks being best by themselves; but I know that is not the reason. She thinks Joe doesn't want her; and that is true, too."

Letty thought it possible that Mrs. Train might decline upon other grounds,—as, that she knew very well that if she lived with Agnes, she would have all the work of the house to do; but she did not say so. She applied herself, instead, to the task of inducing Agnes to look on the bright side of her lot; but she did not succeed very well.

Agnes had another grievance. She had made Joseph a set of new shirts, and Joseph declared that they did not fit at all. Only that morning he had thrown one down and declared that nobody could wear it. Agnes thought he would never have done so if he had had any regard for her feelings, and avowed her suspicions that he did not love her, after all.

Letty could hardly keep from laughing.

"You should have made one first, to try the pattern," said she. "Men are always desperately particular about their shirts. Even Mr. Trescott frets about his, sometimes;—but he never scolds at any thing. Cannot you alter them?"

Agnes did not know how she could improve them. She had no courage to try. Where was the use, when one was found fault with?

Letty asked her if she remembered how she had found fault with her wedding-dresses, after her mother had taken so much pains with them.

Agnes thought that was different. She would not be comforted,—and at last departed with red eyelids and a martyr face, to meet her husband after his work.

And Letty returned to her ironing, feeling thankful that she had been so brought up as not to consider the prospect of having her own work to do a hardship.