h good luck as usual with the last she made.

At last they drove off down the road. The moon had come up, and was
shining through the trees. It was so cool and fresh and bright an
evening, with a little yellow still lingering in the west after the
sunset! The guests went away very happy and light-hearted, for it
seemed as if they had been spared a terrible sorrow.

"I saw the prettiest little old-fashioned table up in the garret,"
said Mrs. Martha. "It only needs fixing up a little. I mean to ask
your Aunt Catherine if I can't have it when I go over again."

"No, you won't," said her husband, with more authority than was usual
with him.

Miss Catherine stood watching at the gate until they were out of
sight. "I must settle down," said she. "I feel as if it had been a
wedding or a funeral or something; and I declare if it isn't Wednesday
evening, and what will they think has become of me at meeting?" though
she could have trusted Mrs. Hilton to spread the story far and
wide--by which you must not suppose that good Mrs. Hilton was a
naughty gossip.

The next morning Miss Catherine waked up even more heavy-hearted than
she had been the day before. I suppose she was tired after the unusual
excitement. She wished she had talked to Joseph, she must talk with
somebody. She wished she had not been such a fool as to get on those
cars, for she was sure she never should hear the last of the joke;
and, after the morning work was done, she sat down in the sitting-room
with the clock ticking mockingly, and that intolerable feeling of
despair and disgust came over her; there is nothing much harder to
bear than that, if you know what it is I am sure you will pity her.

The afternoon seemed very long. It rained; and nobody came in until
the evening, when Mrs. Hilton's boy came with a letter. Miss Catherine
had been to the post-office just before dinner, to send the money to
Miss Ashton; and this surprised her very much. "It must have come by
the seven-o'clock train," said she. "I never get letters from that
way;" and she took it to the window, and looked curiously at the
address, and at last she opened it. It was a pretty letter to look at,
and it proved a pleasant one to read. It was from Alice West, Miss
Ashton's niece; and Miss Catherine read it slowly, and felt as if she
were in a dream.

"My Dear Miss Spring,--My aunt, Miss Ashton, wishes me to write to
you, to ask if it would be convenient for you to take us to board. We