"But there is something here that I really want to know about," said
Candace. "May I read it to you, Cousin Kate? It's in a chapter called
'Correspondence.'"

"Oh, my!" cried Marian, who still held fast to one side of the Manual.
"It tells how to refuse gentlemen when they offer themselves to you.
Here it all is. You must say,--

"'SIR,--I regret extremely if anything in my
manner has led to a misapprehension of my true
feelings. I do not experience for you the
affection which alone can make the marriage
relation a happy one; so I--'"

"No, no," interrupted Candace, blushing very pink, and pulling the book
away from Marian; "that isn't at all what I wanted to ask you about,
Cousin Kate. It was--"

"Oh, then perhaps you meant to accept him," went on the incorrigible
Marian, again getting possession of one side of the "Manual of
Gentility." "Here you are:--

"'DEAR FRIEND,--Your letter has made me truly
happy, breathing, as it does, expressions of deep
and heartfelt affection, of which I have long felt
the corresponding sentiments. I shall be happy to
receive you in my home as an accepted suitor, and
I--'"

"Cousin Kate, make her stop--isn't she too bad?" said Cannie, vainly
struggling for the possession of the book.

"'And I'--let me see, where was I when you interrupted?" went on Marian.
"Oh, yes, here--

"'And I am sure that my parents will give their
hearty consent to our union. Receive my thanks for
your assurances, and believe--'"

But Candace had again got hold of the volume, and no one ever learned
the end of the letter, or what the lover of this obliging lady was to
"believe."

"_This_ is what I wanted to ask you about, Cousin Kate," said Candace,
when quiet was restored. "The book says:--

"'The signature of a letter should depend upon the
degree of familiarity existing between the writer
and the person addressed. For instance, in writing
to a perfect stranger a lady would naturally use
the form,--

Yours truly,
Mrs. A. M. Cotterell.'"

"Oh! oh!" interrupted Georgie. "Fancy any one signing herself 'Yours
truly, Mrs. A. M. Cotterell.' It's awfully vulgar, isn't it mamma?"

"That is a very old-fashioned book," observed Mrs. Gray; "still I