Hatboro', of all the ridiculous reasons?"

"It was one of the first places where they began to make straw hats; it was
a nickname at first, and then they adopted it. The old name was Dorchester
Farms. Father fought the change, but it was of no use; the people wouldn't
have it Farms after the place began to grow; and by that time they had got
used to Hatboro'. Besides, I don't see how it's any worse than Hatfield, in
England."

"It's very American."

"Oh, it's American. We have Boxboro' too, you know, in Massachusetts."

"And you are going from Rome to Hatboro', Mass.," said the old lady, trying
to present the idea in the strongest light by abbreviating the name of the
State.

"Yes," said Miss Kilburn. "It will be a change, but not so much of a change
as you would think. It was father's wish to go back."

"Ah, my _dear_!" cried the old lady. "You're letting that weigh with
you, I see. Don't do it! If it wasn't wise, don't you suppose that the last
thing he could wish you to do would be to sacrifice yourself to a sick whim
of his?"

The kindness expressed in the words touched Annie Kilburn. She had a
certain beauty of feature; she was near-sighted; but her eyes were brown
and soft, her lips red and full; her dark hair grew low, and played in
little wisps and rings on her temples, where her complexion was clearest;
the bold contour of her face, with its decided chin and the rather large