Conspicuous among these was a middle-aged woman, who elicited remarks from all who beheld her, both from the peculiarity of her dress and the huge blue cotton umbrella she persisted in hoisting, to the great annoyance of those in whose faces it was thrust, and who forgot in a measure their vexation when they read the novel device it bore.  Like many other people, who can sympathize with the good woman, she was always losing her umbrella, and at last, in self-defense, had embroidered upon the blue in letters of white: 

  “Steal me not, for fear of shame. 
  For here you see my owner’s name: 

  “Charity Douglas.”

As the lettering was small and not very distinct, it required a close observation to decipher it; but the plan was a successful one, nevertheless, and for four long years the blue umbrella had done good service to its mistress, shielding her alike from sunshine and from storm, and now in the crowded city it performed a double part, preventing those standing near from seeing, while at the same time it kept the dust from settling on the thick green veil and leghorn bonnet of its owner.  At Betsy Jane’s suggestion she wore a hoop to-day on Theo’s account, and that she was painfully conscious of the fact was proved by the many anxious glances she cast at her chocolate-colored muslin, through the thin folds of which it was plainly visible.

“I wish I had left the pesky thing to hum,” she thought, feeling greatly relieved when at last, as the crowd became greater, it was broken in several pieces and ceased to do its duty.

From her seat near the window Madam Conway caught sight of the umbrella as it swayed up and down amid the multitude, but she had no suspicion that she who bore it thus aloft had even a better right than herself to sit where she was sitting.  In her excitement she had forgotten Mrs. Douglas’ intended visit, to prepare Theo for which she had returned to Worcester, but it came to her at length, when, as the last fire company passed, the blue umbrella was closed, and the leghorn bonnet turned in the direction of the hotel.  There was no mistaking the broad, good-humored face which looked so eagerly up at “George’s window,” and involuntarily Madam Conway glanced under the bed with the view of fleeing thither for refuge!

“What shall I do?” she cried, as she heard the umbrella on the stairs.  “I’ll lock her out,” she continued; and in an instant the key was in her pocket, while, trembling in every limb, she awaited the result.

Nearer and nearer the footsteps came; there was a knock upon the door, succeeded by a louder one, and then, as both these failed to elicit a response, the handle of the umbrella was vigorously applied.  But all in vain, and Madam Conway heard the discomfited outsider say, “They told me Theodoshy’s grandmarm was here, but I guess she’s in the street.  I’ll come agin bime-by,” and Mrs. Douglas, senior, walked disconsolately down the stairs, while Madam Conway thought it doubtful whether she gained access to the room that day, come as often as she might.