Mrs. Deane sighed again, but she had long since ceased to oppose
the imperious Eugenia, who was to all intents and purposes the
mistress of the house, and who oftentimes led her mother and
weaker-minded sister into the commission of acts from which they
would otherwise have shrunk. Possessed of a large share of
romance, Eugenia had given to their place the name of "Locust
Grove;" and as Mrs. Deane managed to keep up a kind of outside
show by practising the most pinching economy in everything
pertaining to the actual comfort of her family, they were looked
upon as being quite wealthy and aristocratic by those who saw
nothing of their inner life--who knew nothing of the many shifts
and turns in the kitchen to save money for the decoration of the
parlors, or of the frequent meager meals eaten from the pantry
shelf, in order to make amends for the numerous dinner and evening
parties which Eugenia and Alice insisted upon giving, and which
their frequent visits to their friends rendered necessary.
Extensive servant-hire was of course too expensive, and, as both
Eugenia and Alice affected the utmost contempt for anything like
_work_, their mother toiled in the kitchen from morning until
night, assisted only by a young girl, whose mother constantly
threatened to take her away, unless her wages were increased, a
thing which seemed impossible.

It was just after this woman's weekly visit, and in the midst of
preparations for a large dinner party, that Mrs. Deane received
her sister's letter, to which there was added a postscript, in a
strange handwriting, saying she was dead. There was a moisture in
Mrs. Deane's eyes as she read the touching lines; and leaning her
heated forehead against the cool window pane, she, too, thought of