e
earnestly insisted that not a word she said on this subject should ever
be breathed into another ear.

When Ida Mayberry heard what Calthea had said about her and Mr.
Tippengray's age, she was very angry, and declared she would not go to
the old thing's wedding, which was to take place the next day in the
Lethbury church. But, after thinking over the matter, she changed her
mind, and concluded that at times like this we should all be pleasant
and good-natured towards one another; so she sat down and wrote a letter
to Miss Calthea, which she sent to the expectant bride that very
afternoon. The missive ran thus:

MY DEAR MISS ROSE:

I have seen so little of Mr. Beam in the last few days that
I have had no opportunity to express to him some thanks
which are due him from Mr. Tippengray and myself. I am
therefore obliged to ask you, my dear Miss Rose, to give to
him a message from me, which, as it is one of gratitude, you
will be pleased to deliver.

Not long ago, when Mr. Beam took occasion to tell me that he
loved me and asked me to marry him,--I remember now that it
was on the very day that Mr. Petter's horse behaved so badly
and, unfortunately for you, tipped you out of the tail end
of the little cart, and made it necessary for you to give up
both it and Mr. Tippengray to me,--he (Mr. Beam) was so good
as to say that if I would agree to be his wife and still
wished the instructive companionship of Mr. Tippengray, he
would take that gentleman into his family as a tutor. Now
this, as you will readily acknowledge, my dear Miss Rose,
was very good in Mr. Beam, and in return I wish you to say
to him, both from Mr. Tippengray and from me, that if there
should ever be any position in our gift which he is capable
of filling, all he has to do is to ask for it.

Most sincerely yours,

Ida Mayberry.

And the next day in church no face expressed a more delighted interest
in the nuptial ceremonies than that of the pretty Miss Mayberry.

* * * * *

It was late in November, and the weather was getting decidedly cool.
There was a fire in the tap-room of the Squirrel Inn, and also one in
the little parlor, and by this, after supper, sat Mr. and Mrs. Petter.

The guests were all gone; Mr. and Mrs. Tippengray, who had had a quiet
wedding in New York, were on their way to Cambridge, E