rmer maid met all society there. A gifted lawyer
fell a victim to Clarice's charms, and, on a moonlit porch overlooking
the sea, warned her against young Stuyvesant. On learning that the
_roue_ had already attempted to weaken the girl's high principles, to
rescue her he made her his wife. He was soon afterward elected Mayor of
New York, but remained a suitor for his beautiful wife's approbation,
waiting upon her in gilded halls with the fidelity of a knight of old.

Cordelia adored Clarice and fancied herself just like her--beautiful,
ambitious, poor, with a future of her own carving. Of course such a case
is phenomenal. No other young woman was ever so ridiculous.

"You have on your besht dresh, Cordalia," said her mother. "It'll soon
be wore out, an' ye'll git no other, wid your father oidle, an' no wan
airnin' a pinny but you an' Johnny an' Sarah Rosabel. Fwhere are ye
goin'?"

"I won't be gone long," said Cordelia, half out of the hall door.

"Cordalia Angeline, darlin'," said her mother, "mind, now, doan't let
them be talkin' about ye, fwherever ye go--shakin' yer shkirts an'
rollin' yer eyes. It doan't luk well for a gyurl to be makin' hersel'
attractive."

"Oh, mother, I'm not attractive, and you know it."

With her head full of meeting Jerry Donahue, Cordelia tripped down the
four flights of stairs to the street door. As Clarice, she thought of
Jerry as James the butler; in fact, all the beaux she had had of late
were so many repetitions of the unfortunate James in her mind. All the
other characters in her acquaintance were made to fit more or less
loosely into her romance life, and she thought of everything she did as
if it all happened in Lulu Jane Tilley's beautiful novel. Let the reader
fancy, if possible, what a feat that must have been for a tenement girl
who had never known what it was to have a parlor, in our sense of the
word, who had never known courtship to be carried on indoors, except in
a tenement hallway, and who had to imagine that the sidewalk flirtations
of actual life were meetings in private parks, that the wharves and
public squares and tenement roofs where she had seen all the young men
and women making love were heavily carpeted drawing-rooms, broad manor,
house verandas, and the fragrant conservatories of luxurious mansions!
But Cordelia managed all this mental necromancy easily, to her own
satisfaction. And now she was tripping down the bare wooden stairs
beside the dark greasy wal