I only saw her myself for a few hours at Boston. I remember she was
rather good-looking--but very shy, and not a bit like all the other girls
one was seeing. Her clothes were odd, and dowdy, and too old for her
altogether,--which struck me as curious, for the American girls, even the
country ones, have such a natural turn for dressing themselves. Her Boston
cousins didn't like it, and they tried to buy her things--but she was
difficult to manage--and they had to give it up. Still they were very fond
of her, I remember. Only she didn't let them show it much. Her manners
were much stiffer than theirs. They said she was very countrified and
simple--that she had been brought up quite alone by their old uncle, in a
little country town--and hardly ever went away from home.'

'And Edward never saw her?' inquired Mrs. Burgoyne, with a motion of the
head towards Manisty.

'No. He was at Chicago just those days. But you never saw anything like the
kindness of the cousins! Luncheons and dinners!'--Miss Manisty raised her
little gouty hands--'my dear--when we left Boston I never wanted to eat
again. It would be simply indecent if we did nothing for this girl. English
people are so ungrateful this side of the water. It makes me hot when I
think of all they do for us.'

The small lady's blanched and wrinkled face reddened a little with a colour
which became her. Manisty, lost in irritable reflection, apparently took no
notice.

'But why did they send her out all alone?' said Mrs. Burgoyne. 'Couldn't
they have found some family for her to travel with?'

'Well, it was a series of accidents. She did come over with some Boston