"This morning I was like a chicken," said Fleda, laughing,
"and now like a turkey-cock."

"Shall I tell mamma, Fleda," said young Rossitur, "that you
put off reading her letter to bake muffins?"

Fleda answered without looking up, "Yes, if he pleased."

"What do you suppose she will think?"

"I don't know."

"She will think that you love muffins better than her."

"No," said Fleda, quietly, but firmly, — "she will not think
that, because it isn't true."

The gentlemen laughed, but Mr. Carleton declared that Fleda's
reasoning was unanswerable.

"Well, I will see you to-morrow," said Mr. Rossitur, "after
you have read the letter, for I suppose you will read it some
time. You should have had it before, — it came enclosed to me,
— but I forgot unaccountably to mail it to you till a few days
ago."

"It will be just as good now, Sir," said Mr. Ringgan.

"There is a matter in it, though," said Rossitur, "about which
my mother has given me a charge. We will see you to-morrow. It