Caddy sat for some time surveying the old woman and her cat, in evident awe of both.  She regarded also with great admiration the scrupulously clean and shining kitchen tins that garnished the walls and reflected the red light of the blazing fire.  The wooden dresser was a miracle of whiteness, and ranged thereon was a set of old-fashioned blue china, on which was displayed the usual number of those unearthly figures which none but the Chinese can create.  Tick, tick, went the old Dutch clock in the corner, and the smoke-jack kept up its whirring noise.  Old Tom and Aunt Rachel were both napping; and so Caddy, having no other resource, went to sleep also.

Mrs. Ellis found her way without any difficulty to Mrs. Thomas’s room.  Her gentle tap upon the door quite flurried that good lady, who (we speak it softly) was dressing her wig, a task she entrusted to no other mortal hands.  She peeped out, and seeing who it was, immediately opened the door without hesitation.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?  Come in, Ellen,” said she; “I don’t mind you.”

“I’ve brought the night-dresses home,” said Mrs. Ellis, laying her bundle upon the table,—­“I hope they’ll suit.”

“Oh, no doubt they will.  Did you bring the bill?” asked Mrs. Thomas.

The bill was produced, and Mrs. Ellis sat down, whilst Mrs. Thomas counted out the money.  This having been duly effected, and the bill carefully placed on the file, Mrs. Thomas also sat down, and commenced her usual lamentation over the state of her nerves, and the extravagance of the younger members of the family.  On the latter subject she spoke very feelingly.  “Such goings on, Ellen, are enough to set me crazy—­so many nurses—­and then we have to keep four horses—­and it’s company, company from Monday morning until Saturday night; the house is kept upside-down continually—­money, money for everything—­all going out, and nothing coming in!”—­and the unfortunate Mrs. Thomas whined and groaned as if she had not at that moment an income of clear fifteen thousand dollars a year, and a sister who might die any day and leave her half as much more.

Mrs. Thomas was the daughter of the respectable old gentleman whom Dr. Whiston’s grandfather had prepared for his final resting-place.  Her daughter had married into a once wealthy, but now decayed, Carolina family.  In consideration of the wealth bequeathed by her grandfather (who was a maker of leather breeches, and speculator in general), Miss Thomas had received the offer of the poverty-stricken hand of Mr. Morton, and had accepted it with evident pleasure, as he was undoubtedly a member of one of the first families of the South, and could prove a distant connection with one of the noble families of England.

They had several children, and their incessant wants had rendered it necessary that another servant should be kept.  Now Mrs. Thomas had long had her eye on Charlie, with a view of incorporating him with the Thomas establishment, and thought this would be a favourable time to broach the subject to his mother:  she therefore commenced by inquiring—­