When May had proposed to Mrs. Tabb to live, or, rather, lodge with her,
nothing of its kind could exceed the enthusiastic reception she met.
She poured out a torrent of exclamations and superlatives, which set
all the rules of grammar at defiance. Then she broke out in the
vociferous indignation at "the old miser's meanness," and last, and
more outrageous than all, were her reflections on "upstartish misses,
who drop from the clouds when no one expects them, and get all and
every thing that them ought to had, who had been waiting, and bearing
with people's meanness and ill-humor from their cradels up." And if,
at that moment, she had not tilted her snuff-box, which was filled with
Scotch snuff, over, under May's nose, whereupon both were seized with a
paroxysm of sneezing, which was an effectual interruption to her
tirade, she would have been silenced by a few charitable explanations.

When May returned home, she found Mr. Jerrold waiting in the parlor.
He offered his hand; and there was such an air of sincerity in his
manner, that it dispelled all May's reserve.

"I have brought Helen's love," he said, while he uncovered a
magnificent bouquet, "and these roses and violets. They are the first
of the season."

"These are _very, very_ beautiful and fragrant, and I thank you most
heartily for them. How is Helen?"

"She is looking well, but she falls occasionally into fits of
despondency, which is either the result of much fatigue and
excitement, or some cause which she does not wish to explain. I wish
you would come and live with us. Helen needs a sister," said the young
man.