side.

"It is better than a mile and a half up to Colonel Prowley's; but I
calculate I can take you there, after I've left this lady," responded
the proprietor of this turnout, in reply to a question of mine.

"But I want to go to Colonel Prowley's, too," said a feminine voice at
my side.

"Well, now that's _com_plete," acquiesced the driver. "I'll just go get
the baggage, and put you both through right away."

Of course I turned to view my companion. She was a middle-aged
lady, something disordered in dress and hair, with a sharply marked
countenance, and that diffusive sort of eye that seems to take one in as
a speck which breaks the view of more interesting objects lying on the
verge of the horizon. Yet her face was dimpled by those indescribable
changing lines which indicate that a cessation of impulse has not marked
the wearer's retreat from youth, and make us feel anew how blessed a
thing it is for the character to keep our impulses strong within us, and
to be strong ourselves in their restraint.

I was doubting whether to begin those little shivers and sidelings with
which people who feel that they ought to be acquainted, but have nobody
to introduce them, endeavor to supply the deficiency, when the lady
abruptly pronounced my name, and inquired if I responded thereto.

"I thought it must be you," she said, on being satisfied regarding my
identity, "for the Colonel wrote me that he expected you about this
time. I feel we shall become friends. I am Miss Hurribattle."

Although I had a strong suspicion who it must be, yet a cold surprise
seemed to run through me, when the dire certainty so suddenly declared
itself. I dropped my carpet-bag, as if all my daintily built castles
were in it, and it was best to crush them to pieces at once and have it
over. I pondered, and helped tie a bandbox on behind the vehicle, and
after some time found myself in the carryall staring at the felt hat
of the driver an inch or two before my nose, and Miss Hurribattle
established by my side. It occurred to me that it was my place to resume
the conversation, and, in a sudden spasm of originality, I changed a
remark respecting the beauty of the day into an observation on the
steepness of the hill we began to ascend.

"It is very steep," assented the lady, "and I have a particular
objection to riding up-hill: it always appears to me I am helping the
horses draw. However, it may sometimes be pleasant; for I remember
paying a visit