ing a de la Rocheaimard, a boss, or bossess,
is out of the question. Clara is a distant relative of Betts, and soon
became intimate with her new cousin. One day she saw me lying on a
table, and, after an examination, she exclaimed--

"Two things surprise me greatly here, Mrs. Shoreham--that YOU should
own one of these THINGS"--I confess I did not like the word--"and that
you should own this particular handkerchief."

"Why so, chere Clara?"--how prettily my mistress pronounces that name;
so different from Clarry!

"It is not like YOU to purchase so extravagant and useless a THING--and
then this looks like a handkerchief that once belonged to another
person--a poor girl who has lost her means of extravagance by the
change of the times. But, of course, it is only a resemblance, as YOU--"

"It is more, Clara--the handkerchief is the same. But that handkerchief
is not an article of dress with me; it is MY FRIEND!"

The reader may imagine how proud I felt! This was elevation for the
species, and gave a dignity to my position, with which I am infinitely
satisfied. Nevertheless, Miss Caverly manifested surprise.

"I will explain," continued Mrs. Shoreham. "The handkerchief is my own
work, and is very precious to me, on account des souvenirs."

{des souvenirs = of memories}

Adrienne then told the whole story, and I may say Clara Caverly became
my friend also. Yes, she, who had formerly regarded me with
indifference, or dislike, now kissed me, and wept over me, and in this
manner have I since passed from friend to friend, among all of
Adrienne's intimates.

Not so with the world, however. My sudden disappearance from it excited
quite as much sensation as my debut in it. Tom Thurston's addresses to
Miss Monson had excited the envy, and, of course, the attention of all
the other fortune-hunters in town, causing his sudden retreat to be
noticed. Persons of this class are celebrated for covering their
retreats skilfully. Tom declared that "the old chap broke down when
they got as far as the fortune--that, as he liked the girl, he would
have taken her with $75,000, but the highest offer he could get from
him was $30,000. This, of course, no gentleman could submit to. A girl
with such a pocket-handkerchief OUGHT to bring a clear $100,000, and I
was for none of your half-way doings. Old Monson is a humbug. The
handkerchief has disappeared, and, now they have taken down the SIGN, I
hope they will do business on a more reasonab