tell what the news is? Is it nice?"

"Very nice!" said papa, taking her irreverent hand into his own, and
keeping it there. "At least you will think so," he added, looking half
playful and half wistful.

Cornelia brought her lips into a pout, all ready to say, "what?" but did
not say it, and gazed at her father with round, interrogating eyes.

"You'd be very glad to go away and leave me, of course," continued the
professor, assuming an air of studied unconcern.

"Papa!" exclaimed the young lady, with an emphatic intonation of
affection, indignation, and bewilderment.

"What! not be glad to go to New York, and to all the fashionable
watering-places, and be introduced to all the best society?" queried the
old gentleman, in hypocritical astonishment.

"Papa!" again exclaimed the young lady; but this time in a tone which
the tumult of delight, anticipation, and a fear lest there should be a
mistake somewhere, softened almost into a whisper. She had risen from
the arm of the chair to her feet, and stood with her hands clasped
together beneath her chin.

The professor laughed a short and rather unnatural laugh. "I thought you
wouldn't be obstinate about it, when you came to think it over," said
he, dryly. He folded up his spectacles and put them back in his
waistcoat pocket with, unusual elaboration of manner. "So you would
really like to have a change, would you? Well, I trust you will not be
disappointed in your expectations of society and watering-places. At all
events, you may learn to appreciate home more!" Here the professor
laughed again, as if he considered it a joke.

Cornelia was too much entranced by the new idea to have any notion of
what he was talking about; she was already hundreds of miles away,
living in stately houses, driving in magnificent carriages, sweeping in
gorgeous silks and laces through gilded and illuminated ballrooms, and
listening to courtly compliments from handsome and immaculate gentlemen.
But when, presently, her scattered faculties began to return to a more
normal state, an unquenchable curiosity to know how the miracle was to
be worked, seized upon her. She dropped on her knees beside her father's
chair, took his hand in both of hers, and looked up in his face.

"But how is it to be, papa, dear? I mean, whom am I to go with? and when
am I to go?--dear me, I haven't a thing to wear! Shall I have time to
get any thing ready? Isn't Sophie invited too? How strange it all seems!
I can