ket, though!' and that was every word he said
about it."

"Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wife
say when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?"

"She warn't thar," replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the gals
said, and had gone to bed. I sh'd think she _would_ have had a
headache,--but thar," he added, rising suddenly and beginning to search
in his capacious pockets, "I declar' for 't, if I hain't forgotten
Huldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit put everything else out of my head."

Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmer
handed to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was not
from her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a double
letter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for a
week, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality.
There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicate
pointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfume
which the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton."

With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, was still not quite
alacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding a
rose to his lips, and read as follows:--

SARATOGA, July 20.

MY DEAREST, SWEETEST HILDA,--Can it be possible
that you have been away a whole month, and that I have not
written to you? I am awfully ashamed! but I have been so
TOO busy, it has been out of the question. Papa
decided quite _suddenly_ to come here instead of going to
Long Branch; and you can imagine the _frantic_ amount of
work Mamma and I had to get ready. One has to dress so
_much_ at Saratoga, you know; and we cannot just send an
order to _Paris_, as _you_ do, my dear Queen, for all we
want, but have to _scratch round_ (I know you don't allow
your subjects to use slang, but we DO scratch
round, and nothing else can express it), and get things made
here. I have a _lovely_ pale blue Henrietta-cloth, made like
that rose-colored gown of yours that I admire so much, and
that you SAID I might copy. Mamma says it was
_awfully_ good of you, and that _she_ wouldn't let any one
copy _her_ French dresses if she had them; but I told her
you _were_ awfully good, and that was why. Well, then I have
a white nun's-veiling, made with triple box-plaits, and a
_lovely_