Then followed a one-sided description of that morning’s occurrence, Mrs. Livingstone working herself up to such a pitch of excitement, that before her recital was finished, she had determined at all events to keep back ’Lena’s invitation, as a method of punishing her for her “insolence,” as she termed it.

“Mrs. Graham will thank me for it, I know,” said she, “for she cannot endure her; and besides that, I don’t think ’Lena expects to be invited, so there’s no harm done.”

Carrie was not yet quite so hardened as her mother, and for a moment her better nature shrank from so mean a transaction, which might, after all, be found out, involving them in a still worse difficulty; but as the thought flashed upon her that possibly ’Lena might again attract Durward toward her, she assented, and they were about putting the notes aside, when John Jr. came in, catching up his grandmother’s note the first thing, and exclaiming, “Oh, rich!—­capital!  I hope she’ll go!” Then, before his mother could interpose a word, he darted away in quest of Mrs. Nichols, whose surprise was fully equal to that of Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie.

“Now, you don’t say I’ve got an invite,” said she, leaving the darning-needle in the stocking-heel which she was mending, and wiping her steel-bowed spectacles.  “Come, ’Leny, you read it, that’s a good girl.”

’Lena complied, and taking the note from her cousin’s hand, read that Mrs. Graham would be at home Thursday evening, etc.

“But where’s the invite?  That don’t say anything about me!” said Mrs. Nichols, beginning to fear that it was a humbug after all.

As well as they could, ’Lena and John Jr. explained it to her, and then, fully convinced that she was really invited, Mrs. Nichols began to wonder what she should wear, and how she should go, asking John “if he couldn’t tackle up and carry her in the shay,” as she called the single buggy.

“Certainly,” answered John Jr. willing to do anything for the sake of the fun which he knew would ensue from his grandmother’s attendance.

’Lena thought otherwise, for much as she desired to gratify her grandmother, she would not for the world expose her to the ridicule which her appearance at a fashionable party would call forth.  Glancing reprovingly at her cousin, she said, “I wouldn’t think of going, grandma, for you are lame and old, and there’ll be so many people there, all strangers, too, that you won’t enjoy it at all.  Besides that, we’ll have a nice time at home together—–­I’ll read to you all the evening.”

“We,” repeated John Jr.  “Pray, are you not going?”

“Not without an invitation,” said ’Lena smilingly.

“True, true,” returned her cousin.  “It’s downstairs, I dare say.  I only stopped to look at this.  I’ll go and get yours now.”

Suiting the action to the word, he descended to his mother’s room, asking for “’Lena’s card.”