“What! crying yet at that old Miss Lavinia!” she said; “how can you mind her so!”

“Oh!  I’m very unhappy!” said poor Redbud, bursting into tears; her self-control had given away at last.  “Don’t mind me, Fanny, but I can’t help it—­please don’t talk any more about Verty, or walking out, or anything.”

Fanny looked at her friend for a moment, and the deep sadness on Redbud’s face banished all her laughter.

“Why not talk about him?” she said, sitting down by Redbud.

“Because I can’t see him any more.”

“Can’t see him!”

“No—­not to-day.”

“Why?”

Redbud wiped her eyes.

“Because—­because—­oh!  I can’t tell you, Fanny!—­I can’t—­it’s wrong in cousin Lavinia!—­I know it is!—­I never meant—­oh!  I am so unhappy!”

And Redbud ended by bursting into a flood of tears, which caused the impulsive and sympathetic Fanny, whose lips had for some moments been twitching nervously, to do the same.

“Don’t cry, Fanny—­please don’t cry!” said Redbud.

“I’m not crying!” said Miss Fanny, shedding floods of tears—­“I’m not sorry—­I’m mad with Miss Lavinia for making you cry; I hate her!”

“Oh!” sobbed Redbud, “that is very wrong.”

“I don’t care.”

“She’s my cousin.”

“No matter!  She had no business coming here and making you unhappy.”

With which Miss Fanny sniffed, if that very inelegant word may be applied to any action performed by so elegant a young lady.

“Yes! she had no business—­the old cat!” continued the impulsive Fanny, “and I feel as if I could scratch her eyes out!—­to make you cry!”

“But I won’t any more,” said Redbud, beginning afresh.

“And I will stop, too,” said Fanny, becoming hysterical.

After which solemn determination to be calm, and not display any further emotion on any account, the two young ladies, sinking into each other’s arms, cried until their white handkerchiefs were completely wetted by their tears.

They had just managed to suppress their emotion somewhat—­preparatory to commencing again, doubtless—­when the door of the apartment opened, and a servant girl announced to Miss Redbud that a gentleman had come to see her, and was waiting for that purpose at the foot of the stairs.

“Oh!  I can’t see him,” said Redbud, threatening a new shower.

“You shall!” said Fanny, laughing through her tears.

“Oh, no! no!” said Redbud.

“What shall I tell ’um, Miss,” said the servant?

“Oh, I can’t go down—­tell Verty that—­”

“She’ll be down in a minute,” finished Fanny.

“No, no, I must not!”

“You shall!”

“Fanny—!”

“Come, no nonsense, Reddy! there!  I hear his voice—­oh, me! my goodness gracious!”

These sudden and apparently remarkable exclamations may probably appear mysterious and without reason to the respected readers who do us the honor to peruse our history; but they were in reality not at all extraordinary under the circumstances, and were, indeed, just what might have been expected, on the generally accepted theories of cause and effect.