specially fond of cake and pie," and although I well knew her dainty
fingers had never been immersed in pie-crust, still she had made herself
acquainted with the _modus operandi_ of various culinary productions and
talked as easily with us about them as if she were a real cook. She
seemed from the first to take a great liking to Hal, and, seated in our
family circle, this first night of our acquaintance, expressed great
regret at his early departure, and remarked several times during the
evening, that it would have been so nice if Halbert and her son Louis
Robert could have been companions here in "Cosy Nook," as she called our
house. It seemed anything but a nook to me, situated as it was on high
ground, while about us on either side, lay the seventy-five acres which
was my father's inheritance, when he attained his majority; but, to her,
this living aside from the dusty streets and exciting novelties of the
city, was, I suppose, like being deposited in a little quiet nook. When
we said "good night," all of us were of one mind regarding our new-found
friend. I was perfectly at ease that first evening, and felt no
inclination to make an unlucky speech until the next day, which was
Sunday, came, and with it the question, "Are you going to church?" It
was always our custom to go to the village church each Sabbath, and I
enjoyed the sermons of Mr. Davis, then our minister, very much. He was a
man of broad soul and genial spirit, and very generally liked. His
sermons were never a re-hash but were quickened and brightened by new
ideas originally expressed. Now, however, when this little lady asked,
"Are you going to church?" I did not think at all of a good sermon, but
of the shabbiness of my best bonnet, and I bit my tongue to check the
speech which rose to my lips--"We generally go, but I'd rather not go
with you"--while mother answered,

"Yes, Mrs. Desmonde" ("Clara, if you please," the lady interposed), "we
always go; would you like to go with us?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, it is a delightful day."

I kept thinking about those shabby ribbons and wondering if I could not
cover them up with my brown veil, and after breakfast was over, I
actually did re-make an old lemon-colored bow to adorn myself with. I
felt shabby enough, however, when we were all ready to start and my poor
cotton gloves came in contact with the delicate kids of our guest, when
she grasped my hand to say, "You cannot know, Emily dear, how happy I
am."