the tightest of curls. The good woman had evidently resolved to put on
her very best appearance.

"These disappointments are very annoying, my daughter, very," she spoke,
advancing and fretting her hand nervously. "If our company does not come
then--well, all our dressing will be for nothing. I wanted you so much
to see Mr. Gusher, my daughter. He's such a nice young gentleman, so
clever and agreeable--and has such a distinguished look, my daughter."
Mrs. Chapman expanded herself, while emphasizing the word distinguished.
She then filled the great arm-chair with her weighty person. "To get
prepared for company, and city company at that, and then have company
not come!" she resumed, casting a glance at Mattie, to see if she could
discern in her countenance what impression she had made. But Mattie
remained silent and thoughtful.

"It's not Mr. Gusher's fault, though. We must charge it all to the
storm, I suppose. Then I did want you to see Mr. Gusher so much, my
daughter. He is such a nice young man--and has such prospects. And
prospects is what a young woman should look to when gentlemen come
seriously inclined to matrimony--"

"Mother," said Mattie, interrupting, "I have got such a nice letter. It
has made me so happy. I know you would like to read it. You always like
to read my letters, you know." And Mattie looked playfully in her
mother's face, and handed her the letter. "You will be delighted to hear
from him. He says so many kind, good things."

Mrs. Chapman took the letter and scanned over it hastily. "And so it has
come to this, has it?" she said, looking admonishingly at Mattie. "A
letter from that sailor-boy, the son of them common Dutch people. Your