s!" cried Betty, as the color left her checks; "oh, I hope he--that
is--I hope nobody whom I know has been engaged in one."

"Not I," returned Oliver, with a mischievous glance. "So you might even
be sorry for a foe, eh, Betty?" But Betty went flying up the path and
did not deign to reply.

Miss Moppet, childlike, was perfectly overjoyed at the prospect of a
wedding in which she was to play a part, and flew from her aunt to Miss
Bidwell and Betty, then back to her aunt again in a twitter of
excitement at the combination of a journey and festivity as well.
General Wolcott's letter to his sister was full of important news. As
the seat of Congress was Annapolis, General Wolcott, who was a member of
that body, had decided to close the manor house for the winter and take
a house in New York for his family, and he sent minute and particular
directions for leaving all home affairs in the hands of Miss Bidwell and
Reuben until their return to Litchfield in the spring. Oliver's intended
marriage had hastened this decision, and there would be barely time to
settle matters and reach New York in season for the wedding. They were
to stop with Clarissa, who had written most pleading letters, and after
that visit would take possession of their new quarters.

Most of the afternoon was spent in plans for their journey, with Oliver
as escort, and many a sigh rose almost to Betty's lips as these recalled
that other journey when her heart had been as light as Moppet's was now.
But she put all thought aside with a resolute heart, and finally
receiving directions from Miss Euphemia in regard to a chest of winter
clothing packed safely away in the garret, she concluded to give
Moppet's restless hands some occupation, and bade the child accompany
her upstairs.

The old garret looked familiar enough. Even the wooden stools which had
served as seats for her and Sally Tracy in the old childish days stood
in the same corner under the dormer window, through which the sun was
even now pouring its setting rays. The chest was unlocked, and presently
a goodly pile of clothing lay upon the floor ready to be carried below.

"Let me have my worsted jacket, and my flannel wrapper (indeed, I do
believe they are too small for me; can I find others in New York,
Betty?), and this pretty hood of Pamela's. Betty, Betty, do you think
Miss Bidwell could cut this one smaller for me? May I just run down and
ask? I will return at once."

"Yes," said Betty, inte