l monologues, and once when the sisters were alone Evelina
called a responsive flush to Ann Eliza's brow by saying suddenly,
without the mention of any name: "I wonder what she's like?"

One day toward spring Mr. Ramy, who had by this time become as much a
part of their lives as the letter-carrier or the milkman, ventured the
suggestion that the ladies should accompany him to an exhibition of
stereopticon views which was to take place at Chickering Hall on the
following evening.

After their first breathless "Oh!" of pleasure there was a silence
of mutual consultation, which Ann Eliza at last broke by saying: "You
better go with Mr. Ramy, Evelina. I guess we don't both want to leave
the store at night."

Evelina, with such protests as politeness demanded, acquiesced in this
opinion, and spent the next day in trimming a white chip bonnet with
forget-me-nots of her own making. Ann Eliza brought out her mosaic
brooch, a cashmere scarf of their mother's was taken from its linen
cerements, and thus adorned Evelina blushingly departed with Mr. Ramy,
while the elder sister sat down in her place at the pinking-machine.

It seemed to Ann Eliza that she was alone for hours, and she was
surprised, when she heard Evelina tap on the door, to find that the
clock marked only half-past ten.

"It must have gone wrong again," she reflected as she rose to let her
sister in.

The evening had been brilliantly interesting, and several striking
stereopticon views of Berlin had afforded Mr. Ramy the opportunity of
enlarging on the marvels of his native city.

"He said he'd love to show it all to me!" Evelina declared as Ann Eliza
conned her glowing face. "Did you ever hear anything so silly? I didn't
know which way to look."

Ann Eliza received this confidence with a sympathetic murmur.

"My bonnet IS becoming, isn't it?" Evelina went on irrelevantly, smiling
at her reflection in the cracked glass above the chest of drawers.

"You're jest lovely," said Ann Eliza.

Spring was making itself unmistakably known to the distrustful New
Yorker by an increased harshness of wind and prevalence of dust, when
one day Evelina entered the back room at supper-time with a cluster of
jonquils in her hand.

"I was just that foolish," she answered Ann Eliza's wondering glance, "I
couldn't help buyin' 'em. I felt as if I must have something pretty to
look at right away."

"Oh, sister," said Ann Eliza, in trembling sympathy. She felt that
speci