, my particular
aversion, that I didn't care to hear it again. But with Nellie 'twas
all new, and after a great whirling of tea-grounds and staining of
mother's best table-cloth, she passed her cup to Mrs. Thompson,
confidently whispering to me that she guessed she'd tell her something
about Willie Raymond, who lived in the city, and who gave her the
little cornelian ring which she wore. With the utmost gravity Mrs.
Thompson read off the past and present, and then peering far into the
future she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, my! there's a gulf, or something,
before you, and you are going to tumble into it headlong; don't ask me
anything more."

I never did and never shall believe in fortune-telling, much less in
Granny Thompson's "turned-up cups," but years after I thought of her
prediction with regard to Nellie. Poor, poor Nellie!

CHAPTER IV.

JEALOUSY.

On the first Monday in June our school commenced, and long before
breakfast Lizzie and I were dressed and had turned inside out the
little cupboard over the fireplace where our books were kept during
vacation. Breakfast being over we deposited in our dinner-basket the
whole of a custard pie, and were about starting off when mother said
"we shouldn't go a step until half-past eight," adding further, that
"we must put that pie back, for 'twas one she'd saved for their own
dinner."

Lizzie pouted, while I cried, and taking my bonnet I repaired to the
"great rock," where the sassafras, blackberries, and blacksnakes grew.
Here I sat for a long time, thinking if I ever did grow up and get
married (I was sure of the latter), I'd have all the custard pie I
could eat for once! In the midst of my reverie a footstep sounded
near, and looking up I saw before me Nellie Gilbert, with her satchel
of books on her arm, and her sunbonnet hanging down her back, after
the fashion in which I usually wore mine. In reply to my look of
inquiry she said her father had concluded to let her go to the
district school, though he didn't expect her to learn anything but
"slang terms and ill manners."

By this time it was half-past eight, and together with Lizzie we
repaired to the schoolhouse, where we found assembled a dozen girls
and as many boys, among whom was Tom Jenkins. Tom was a great admirer
of beauty, and hence I could never account for the preference he had
hitherto shown for me, who my brothers called "bung-eyed" and Sally
"raw-boned." He, however, didn't think so. My eyes,