as come to see the
city, and our time is short. Your folks'll be up this summer, won't
they? We'll wait an' visit then."

"You must certainly take Mrs. Pinkham up to the Park," said the
commission merchant. "I wish I had time to show you round myself. I
suppose you've been seeing some things already, haven't you? I noticed
your arrival in the 'Herald.'"

"The 'Tribune' it was," said Mr. Pinkham, blushing through a smile and
looking round at his wife.

"Oh no; I never read the 'Tribune,'" said Mr. Fitch. "There was quite
an extended notice in my paper. They must have put you and
Mrs. Pinkham into the 'Herald' too." And so the friends parted,
laughing. "I am much pleased to have a call from such distinguished
parties," said Mr. Fitch, by way of final farewell, and Mr. Pinkham
waved his hand grandly in reply.

"Let's get the 'Herald,' then," he said, as they started up the
street. "We can go an' sit over in that little square that we passed
as we came along, and rest an' talk things over about what we'd better
do this afternoon. I'm tired out a-trampin' and standin'. I'd rather
have set still while we were there, but he wanted us to see his store.
Done very well, Joe Fitch has, but 't ain't a business I should like."

There was a lofty look and sense of behavior about Mr. Pinkham of
Wetherford. You might have thought him a great politician as he
marched up Broadway, looking neither to right hand nor left. He felt
himself to be a person of great responsibilities.

"I begin to feel sort of at home myself," said his wife, who always
had a certain touch of simple dignity about her. "When we was comin'
yesterday New York seemed to be all strange, and there wasn't nobody
expectin' us. I feel now just as if I'd been here before."

They were now on the edge of the better-looking part of the town; it
was still noisy and crowded, but noisy with fine carriages instead of
drays, and crowded with well-dressed people. The hours for shopping
and visiting were beginning, and more than one person looked with
appreciative and friendly eyes at the comfortable pleased-looking
elderly man and woman who went their easily beguiled and loitering
way. The pavement peddlers detained them, but the cabmen beckoned them
in vain; their eyes were busy with the immediate foreground.
Mrs. Pinkham was embarrassed by the recurring reflection of herself in
the great windows.

"I wish I had seen about a new bonnet before we came," she lamented.
"Th