essary to say, that Nimpo and Rush were boarding with Mrs.
Primkins during their mother's absence, by Nimpo's own desire, and
were very unhappy under the care of that well-meaning--but very
peculiar--person, who was so greatly surprised on the occasion of
the Birthday Party.

One morning, Mrs. Primkins received a letter. This was a very unusual
occurrence, and she hastened to wipe her hands out of the dish-water,
hunt up her "specs," clean them carefully, and, at last, sit down in her
chintz-covered "Boston rocker," to enjoy at her leisure this very rare
literary dissipation.

Nimpo, who was boarding with Mrs. Primkins while her mother was off on a
journey, was engaged in finishing her breakfast, and did not notice
anything. Having found her scissors, and deliberately cut around the
old-fashioned seal, Mrs. Primkins opened the sheet and glanced at the
name at the bottom of the page, then turned her eyes hastily toward
Nimpo, with a low, significant "Humph!"

But Nimpo, intent only on getting off to school, still did not see her.
Mrs. Primkins went on to examine more closely, covering with her hands
something which fell from the first fold, rustling, to her lap. Very
deliberately, then, as became this staid woman, did she read the letter
from date to signature, twice over, and, ending as she had begun with a
significant "Humph!" she refolded the letter, slipped in the inclosure,
put it into her black silk work-bag which hung on the back of her chair,
and resumed her dish-washing, for she was a genuine "Yankee housekeeper"
of the old-fashioned sort, and scorned the assistance of what she called
"hired help."

Meanwhile, Nimpo finished her breakfast, gathered up her books, and
hurried off to school, though it was an hour too early, never dreaming
that the letter had anything to do with her. After the morning work was
done,--the pans scalded and set in the sun; the house dusted from attic
to cellar; the vinegar reheated and poured over the walnuts that were
pickling; the apples drying on the shed roof, turned over; the piece of
muslin ("bolt," she called it) that was bleaching on the grass,
thoroughly sprinkled; and, in fact, everything, indoors and out, in Mrs.
Primkins' domain, put into perfect order, that lady sat down to
consider. She drew the letter from the bag, and read it over, carefully
inspecting a ten-dollar bill in her hands, and then leaned back, and
indulged herself in a very unusual, ind