mbitious for
reception evenings. Mrs. Osgood was holding them for a literary circle.
Of course she could not aim at anything as elegant as that; but
newspaper men, young and old, were in the habit of dropping in upon Mr.
Whitney quite informally. About ten, they might be asked down to the
dining-room, where there was a dainty little spread, sometimes a Welsh
rarebit that Dele could concoct to perfection. To be sure, they smoked
the room blue; and Mr. Whitney often brought out a bottle of wine, as
was the custom then; true, he waited until Delia and Nora had gone
upstairs, and taken some of the younger men. Delia had made a strong
protest against it, in her humourous way.

"I don't so much mind you old fellows, who, if you haven't sense enough
not to addle your brains, never will have. But the young men oughtn't
have the temptation thrust in their way. They think it looks smart and
manly; and they make themselves so silly that I'm like a lump of ice to
some of them. I like clear-brained people."

So upstairs they had music and recitations. Every young man of any
elocutionary ability felt himself empowered to recite "The Raven," that
much admired and sharply discussed poem by the Poet Poe, whose
melancholy end still created much interest. Critical spirit ran high.
One party could see only a morbid faculty heightened by opium and
intoxicants; others found the spirit of true and fine genius in many of
his efforts, and believed the circumstances of his life had been against
him.

Ben was reading one evening in Doctor Joe's cosy library, enjoying the
most capacious arm-chair, and improvising a foot-rest out of one not
quite so luxurious. The Doctor had been making out bills, and feeling
quite encouraged, perhaps lighter-hearted than he would when he had
waited a year for the payment of some of them.

"Joe," began his brother, abruptly, "what do you suppose makes mother so
bitter about Delia Whitney?"

"Bitter?" repeated Joe, in the tone of indecision people often use when
a proposition or question takes them by surprise.

"Yes. We all used to be so nice and jolly together, and Delia likes us
all so much. Hanny has such good times down there, with the old lady who
sings such pretty old-fashioned songs, if her voice is rather cracked
and tremulous; and Nora is bright and entertaining. But the other day
mother wouldn't let her go; and she was dreadfully disappointed; and
mother is not as cordial to Delia as she used to be