“What a nice letter!” said Clover.

“Isn’t it?” replied Katy, with shining eyes, “what a thing it is to be a gentleman, and to know how to say and do things in the right way!  I am so surprised and pleased that Mr. Beach should remember me.  I never supposed he would, he sees so many people in London all the time, and it is quite a long time since we were there, nearly two years.  Was your letter from Miss Inches, John?”

“Yes, and Mamma Marian sends you her love; and there’s a present coming by express for you,—­some sort of a book with a hard name.  I can scarcely make it out, the Ru—­ru—­something of Omar Kay—­y—­Well, anyway it’s a book, and she hopes you will read Emerson’s ‘Essay on Friendship’ over before you are married, because it’s a helpful utterance, and adjusts the mind to mutual conditions.”

“Worse than 1 Timothy, ii. 11,” muttered Clover.  “Well, Katy dear, what next?  What are you laughing at?”

“You will never guess, I am sure.  This is a letter from Miss Jane!  And she has made me this pincushion!”

The pincushion was of a familiar type, two circles of pasteboard covered with gray silk, neatly over-handed together, and stuck with a row of closely fitting pins.  Miss Jane’s note ran as follows:—­

    HILLSOVER, April 21.

DEAR KATY,—­I hear from Mrs. Nipson that you are to be married shortly, and I want to say that you have my best wishes for your future.  I think a man ought to be happy who has you for a wife.  I only hope the one you have chosen is worthy of you.  Probably he isn’t, but perhaps you won’t find it out.  Life is a knotty problem for most of us.  May you solve it satisfactorily to yourself and others!  I have nothing to send but my good wishes and a few pins.  They are not an unlucky present, I believe, as scissors are said to be.

    Remember me to your sister, and believe me to be with true
    regard,

    Yours, JANE A. BANGS.

“Dear me, is that her name?” cried Clover.  “I always supposed she was baptized ‘Miss Jane.’  It never occurred to me that she had any other title.  What appropriate initials!  How she used to J.A.B. with us!”

“Now, Clovy, that’s not kind.  It’s a very nice note indeed, and I am touched by it.  It’s a beautiful compliment to say that the man ought to be happy who has got me, I think.  I never supposed that Miss Jane could pay a compliment.”

“Or make a joke!  That touch about the scissors is really jocose,—­for Miss Jane.  Rose Red will shriek over the letter and that particularly rigid pincushion.  They are both of them so exactly like her.  Dear me! only one letter left.  Who is that from, Katy?  How fast one does eat up one’s pleasures!”

“But you had a letter yourself.  Surely papa said so.  What was that?  You haven’t read it to us.”

“No, for it contains a secret which you are not to hear just yet,” replied Clover.  “Brides mustn’t ask questions.  Go on with yours.”