bunting, in the midst of which her long figure lay reclined in an easy chair of Japanese bamboo; she might have posed for a statue of graceful and luxurious repose.  There was light enough from the rising moon and the risen stars to show the clear beauty of her face and the yellow lustre of her hair; and her mother cast upon her from time to time a glance of pride and fondness, as if she were a recovered treasure to which the attraction of novelty had just been added anew.

“They say she looks as I did at her age,” thought the candid lady; “but they must flatter me.  My nose was never so straight as that:  her nose is Belding all over.  I wonder whom she will care about here?  Mr. Furrey is a nice young man, but she is hardly polite to him.  There he is now.”

The young man came briskly up the walk, and ran up the steps so quickly that he tripped on the last one and dropped his hat.  He cleverly recovered it, however, and made very elaborate bows to both the ladies, hoping that he found them quite well.  Mrs. Belding bustled about to give him a chair, at which Alice knitted her pretty brows a little.  She had scarcely moved her eyelashes to greet her visitor; but when Mrs. Belding placed a light chair near her daughter and invited Mr. Furrey to take it, the young lady rose from her reclining attitude and sat bolt upright with a look of freezing dignity.  The youth was not at all abashed, but took his seat, with his hat held lightly by the brim in both hands.  He was elegantly dressed, in as faithful and reverent an imitation as home talent could produce of the costume of the gentlemen who that year were driving coaches in New York.  His collar was as stiff as tin; he had a white scarf, with an elaborate pin constructed of whips and spurs and horseshoes.  He wore dog-skin gloves, very tight and red.  His hair was parted in the middle with rigorous impartiality and shed rather rank fragrance on the night.  He began conversation with an easy air, in which there was something of pleasurable excitement mixed.

“I come to receive your congratulations, ladies!”

“What, you are engaged?” said Mrs. Belding, and even the placid face of Miss Alice brightened with a look of pleased inquiry.

“Oh, dear, no; how could you think so?” he protested, with an arch look at Alice which turned her to marble again.  “I mean I have this day been appointed assistant cashier of our bank!” Napoleon, informing Madame de Beauharnais [* — Perhaps Josephine told Napoleon herself, but I think she was clever enough to let him imagine he owed the appointment to his merits.] that he was to command the army of Italy, probably made less ado about it.

Mrs. Belding made haste to murmur her congratulations.  “Very gratifying, I am sure,—­at your age;” to which Alice responded like a chorus, but without any initiative warmth, “Very gratifying, I am sure.”