those solid-pocketed old gentlemen speak encouragingly of the house,
was, he considered, gaining a great financial victory. In addition to
this Topman lived in a fine house, sumptuously furnished, on the west
side of Bowling Green, had a servant in livery to open the door, and
rode in his own carriage.

Mrs. Topman was a showy, dashing woman of thirty-five, or thereabouts,
tall and slender, and somewhat graceful of figure, and might have passed
for a beauty at twenty. But there was a faded look about her now, and
she had a weakness for loud talking and overdressing. She was evidently
a woman of doubtful blood, and "no family," as society would say in
these days. Indeed, first-rate society, such as Bowling Green boasted of
in those days, considered itself very select, and dealt out its favors
to new-comers with a cautious reserve.

As little or nothing was known of Mrs. Topman's antecedents, first-rate
society cut her--did'nt even condescend to drop her a sidewalk
recognition. But, as pushing one's self into society was quite as much
practised then as now, and as Mrs. Topman was a pushing, vigorous woman,
she resolved that if she could not carry the outworks and compel a
surrender on the part of first-rate society, she would at least have a
circle of her own. And she had just as good a right, she said, to call
her circle of society first-rate, as her neighbors who kept their doors
shut had to "consider" themselves such. It was only an assumption at
best. So the aspiring lady received what she called select company on a
Tuesday, and entertained generally on Thursday evenings. But her
neighbors tossed their heads, and said they were only third-rate people
who went there.

Gusher, however, flourished in what might at this day be considered