live. They have a little bit of a two-story house, and keep only a
waiter girl. How I do hate to see a woman open the door," she
continued, addressing Augusta.

"So do I," replied her friend. "I would have a man servant--a woman
looks so shabby."

"Yes," returned Angila. "There's nothing I dislike so much. No woman
shall ever go to my door."

"If you have a man servant," suggested Mrs. Mervale.

"Of course," said Angila; "and that I will."

"But suppose you cannot afford it," said her mother.

"I don't choose to suppose any thing so disagreeable or improbable,"
replied her daughter, gayly.

"It may be disagreeable," continued Mrs. Mervale, "but I don't see the
improbability of the thing, Angila, nor, indeed, the disagreeability
even. The Constants are young people with a small family, and I think
a woman is quite sufficient for them. Their house is small, I
suppose."

"Oh, yes, a little bit of a place."

"Large enough for them," replied Mrs. Mervale, whose ideas were not as
enlarged as her daughter's.

"Perhaps so," said Angila, "but I do hate low ceilings so. I don't
care about a large house, but I do like large rooms."

"You can hardly have large rooms in a small house," remarked Mrs.
Mervale, smiling.

"Why, Mrs. Astley's is only a two-story house, mamma, and her rooms
are larger than these."

"Yes, my dear, Mrs. Astley's is an expensive house; the lot must be
thirty feet by--"

But Angila had no time to go into the dimensions of people's "lots."
She and Augusta were back to the party again; and they discussed
dresses, and looks, and manners, with great _gout_.

Their criticisms were, like most young people's, always in extremes.
The girls had either looked "lovely" or "frightful," and the young men
were either "charming" or "odious;" and they themselves, from their
own account, had been in a constant state of either delight or terror.

"I was so afraid Robert Hazlewood was going to ask me to waltz," said
Angila; "and he waltzes so abominably that I did not know what I
should do. But, to my delight, he asked me only for a cotillion, and I
fortunately was engaged. I was so glad it was so."

"Then you did not dance with him at all?"

"No--to my great joy, he walked off, angry, I believe."

"Oh, my dear!" remonstrated her mother.

"Why not, mother," replied Angila. "He's my 'favorite aversion.' Well,
Augusta," she continued, turning to her friend, "and when do you sail
for New Orleans?"

"O