Well, as time went on, Mr. Minturn, by strict devotion to business, gradually advanced himself in his profession.  At the end of four or five years, he was able to move into a larger house and to get better furniture.  Still, every thing was yet on an inferior scale to that enjoyed by Mr. Allender, to whose family his own was indebted for an introduction into society, and for an acquaintance with many who were esteemed as valued friends.

Ten years elapsed, and the Minturns were on a level with the Allenders, as far as external things were concerned.  The lawyer’s business had steadily increased, but the merchant had not been very successful in trade, and was not esteemed, in the community, a rising man.  No change in his style of living had taken place since he first became a housekeeper; and his furniture began, in consequence, to look a little dingy and old-fashioned.  This was particularly observed by Mrs. Minturn, who had, at every upward movement,—­and three of these movements had already taken place,—­furnished her house from top to bottom.

Five years more reversed the relations between to families.  The Minturns still went up, and the Allenders commenced going down.  One day, about this time, Mr. Minturn came home from his office, and said to his wife

“I’ve got bad news to tell you about our friends the Allenders.”

“What is that?” inquired Mrs. Minturn, evincing a good deal of interest, though not exactly of the right kind.

“He’s stopped payment.”

“What?”

“He failed to meet his notes in bank yesterday, and to-day, I understand, he has called his creditors together.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, really,” said Mrs. Minturn.  “What is the cause?”

“I believe his affairs have been getting involved for the last four or five years.  He does not seem to possess much business energy.”

“I never thought there was a great deal of life about him.”

“He’s rather a slow man.  It requires more activity and energy of character than he possesses to do business in these times.  Men are getting too wide awake.  I’m sorry for Allender.  He’s a good-hearted man—­too good-hearted, in fact, for his own interest.  But, it’s nothing more than I expected.”

“And I am sorry for poor Mrs. Allender,” said his wife.  “What a change it will be for her!  Ah, me!  Will they lose every thing?”

“I have no means of knowing at present.  But I hope not.”

“Still, they will have to come down a great way.”

“No doubt of it.”

A week passed, after news of Mr. Allender’s business disaster had reached the ears of Mrs. Minturn, and in that time she had not called to see her friend in distress.  Each of these ladies had a daughter about the same age; and that age was fifteen.

“Where are you going, Emeline?” asked Mrs. Minturn of her daughter, who came down, with her bonnet on, one afternoon about this time.