t over the first
part of the letter, in which she is mentioned as 'a decent and
well-behaved menial.' She has since received a note from Lady Scrimmage,
requesting her to take me in some capacity or another, adding, by way of
postscript, 'You know you need not keep her if you do not like--it is
very easy to send her away for idleness or impertinence; but I wish to
oblige Lady Hercules, and so, pray, at all events, write and say that
you will try her."

"And what has my mother said in reply?"

"She did not show me the answer; but, from what I have collected from
her conversation, she has written a most haughty, and, I presume it will
be said, a most impertinent letter to both the ladies; the one to Lady
Scrimmage accompanied with her bill, which has not been paid these three
years. I am sorry that my mother has been annoyed. My father, to whom I
related what had taken place, told me that my mother was very ill
treated by Lady Hercules, and that she had smothered her resentment with
the hopes of benefiting her children by her patronage; but that was at a
time when she little expected to be so prosperous as she is now."

"It is all true, my dear girl; I recollect my father telling me the
whole story. However, I presume my mother, now that she can venture upon
defiance, has not failed to resort to it."

"That I am convinced of. I only hope that she will carry her indignation
against great people so far as not to court them as she has done, and
abandon all her ridiculous ideas of making a match for me. After all,
she has my welfare sincerely at heart, and, although mistaken in the
means of securing it, I cannot but feel that she is actuated solely by
her love for me."

We then changed the conversation to Janet, about whom I could now speak
calmly; after which I narrated to her what had occurred during the
night, and my intention to consult with my father and Anderson upon the
subject.

Virginia then left me that she might assist her mother, and I hastened
to my father's ward, where I found him, and, after our first greeting,
requested that he would accompany me to Anderson's office, as I had
something to communicate to them both. As I walked along with my father
I perceived Spicer at a corner with his foot on a stone step and his
hand to his knee, as if in pain. At last he turned round and saw us. I
walked up to him, and he appeared a little confused as he said, "Ah!
Tom, is that you? I did not know you were at Greenw