"I trust with all due respect as well," said Miss Euphemia gravely.

"Truly, he both spoke and behaved as a gentleman should."

"Do you think it could be Oliver's friend, young Otis from Boston?" said
Miss Euphemia. "He was to arrive in these parts this week."

"It may be he," said Betty, "ask Pamela, she has met him;" and as she
turned to enter she almost fell into the arms of a tall, slender girl
who was hurrying forth to meet her.

At first glance there was enough of likeness between the girls to say
that they might be sisters, but the next made the resemblance less, and
their dissimilarity of expression and coloring increased with
acquaintance. Both had the same slender, graceful figure, but while
Betty was of medium height, Pamela was distinctly taller than her
sister, and her pretty head was covered with golden hair, while Betty's
luxuriant locks were that peculiar shade which is neither auburn nor
golden, but a combination of both, and her eyes were hazel-gray, with
long lashes much darker than her hair. Both girls wore their hair piled
on top of the head, as was the fashion of the time, and both were
guiltless of powder, but Pamela's rebellious waves were trained to lie
as close as she could make them, while Betty's would crop out into
little dainty saucy curls over her forehead and down the nape of her
slender neck in a most bewildering fashion. Their complexions, like Miss
Moppet's, were exquisitely satin-like in texture, but there was no break
in Pamela's smooth cheeks, whereas Betty's dimples lurked not only
around her willful mouth, but perched high in her right cheek, and you
found yourself unconsciously watching to see them come and go at the
tricksy maid's changing will. There was but little more than a year's