company passed. Up and down the street, far as the eye could reach,
the sidewalks were crowded with men, women, and children, all eager
to see the sight. There were people from the city and people from the
country, the latter of whom, having anticipated the day for weeks and
months, were now unquestionably enjoying it to the last degree.

Conspicuous among these was a middle-aged woman, who elicited remarks
from all who beheld her, both from the peculiarity of her dress and
the huge blue cotton umbrella she persisted in hoisting, to the great
annoyance of those in whose faces it was thrust, and who forgot in a
measure their vexation when they read the novel device it bore. Like
many other people, who can sympathize with the good woman, she
was always losing her umbrella, and at last, in self-defense, had
embroidered upon the blue in letters of white:

"Steal me not, for fear of shame.
For here you see my owner's name:

"CHARITY DOUGLAS."

As the lettering was small and not very distinct, it required a
close observation to decipher it; but the plan was a successful one,
nevertheless, and for four long years the blue umbrella had done good
service to its mistress, shielding her alike from sunshine and from
storm, and now in the crowded city it performed a double part,
preventing those standing near from seeing, while at the same time it
kept the dust from settling on the thick green veil and leghorn bonnet
of its owner. At Betsy Jane's suggestion she wore a hoop to-day on
Theo's account, and that she was painfully conscious of the fact was
proved by the many anxious glances she cast at her chocolate-colored