But I was not “raised” at Hillsover for nothing, and remembering the success of our little ruse on the railroad train long ago, I stepped out into the aisle, and with my sweetest smile made room for them to pass.

    “Perhaps I would better keep the seat next the door,” I murmured
    to the yellow lady, “in case an attack should come on.”

“An attack!” she repeated in an accent of alarm.  She whispered to the others.  All three eyed me suspiciously, while I stood looking as pensive and suffering as I could.  Then after confabulating together for a little, they all swept into the seat behind mine, and I heard them speculating in low tones as to whether it was epilepsy or catalepsy or convulsions that I was subject to.  I presume they made signs to all the other people who came in to steer clear of the lady with fits, for nobody invaded my privacy, and I sat in lonely splendor with a pew to myself, and was very comfortable indeed.

Mary’s dress was white satin, with a great deal of point lace and pearl passementerie, and she wore a pair of diamond ear-rings which her father gave her, and a bouquet almost but not quite as large, which was the gift of the bridegroom.  He has a nice face, and I think Silvery Mary will be happy with him, much happier than with her rather dismal family, though his salary is only fifteen hundred a year, and pearl passementerie, I believe, quite unknown and useless in the Hoosac region.  She had loads of the most beautiful presents you ever saw.  All the Silvers are rolling in riches, you know.  One little thing made me laugh, for it was so like her.  When the clergyman said, “Mary, wilt thou take this man to be thy wedded husband?” I distinctly saw her put her fingers over her mouth in the old, frightened way.  It was only for a second, and after that I rather think Mr. Strothers held her hand tight for fear she might do it again.  She sent her love to you, Katy.  What sort of a gown are you going to have, by the way?

I have kept my best news to the last, which is that Deniston has at last given way, and we are to move into town in October.  We have taken a little house in West Cedar Street.  It is quite small and very dingy and I presume inconvenient, but I already love it to distraction, and feel as if I should sit up all night for the first month to enjoy the sensation of being no longer that horrid thing, a resident of the suburbs.  I hunt the paper shops and collect samples of odd and occult pattern, and compare them with carpets, and am altogether in my element, only longing for the time to come when I may put together my pots and pans and betake me across the mill-dam.  Meantime, Roslein is living in a state of quarantine.  She is not permitted to speak with any other children, or even to look out of window at one, for fear she may contract some sort of contagious disease, and spoil our beautiful visit to Burnet.  She sends you a kiss, and so do I; and mother and Sylvia and Deniston and grandmamma, particularly, desire their love.

    Your loving