A few days after we had taken up our residence at Judiville, as I was standing at the door of the store, with my hands behind, looking at the buildings, which were rising on every side, I saw Miss Volumnia Cockspur coming by herself towards the house. As she passed me to go in by the private door, I could see she was big with something important, for she eyed me askance, more sulkily than was graceful in any young lady, and very forbidding in her, whom at all other times I had respected as a comely and judicious maiden: moreover, to my blithe salutation she made no reply, but only a high-madam-ho signification that she recognised me.

“There's a gale in your tail,” said I to myself as she passed by, “light where it likes.”

It did not then strike me that Miss could be about any Machiavelian manoeuvre; indeed, she was the last young lady I would ever have supposed likely to be guilty of any sort of left-handed stratagem; she was at all times so fair and frank in her simplicity. I gave her at the same time credit only for a complimentary call on Mrs. Hoskins and my daughters, as they were new comers.

After she had been longer with them than they could well afford time from their thrift to spend in feminine frivolity, I began to conjecture with myself as to what could possibly be the object and purpose of her visit, when suddenly it came into my head that it might have some reference to her mother's proposed marriage. So, without more ado, bidding Charles to have an eye to the door, I walked round the corner, went up-stairs, and was presently in the midst of the ladies. I found my daughters and Miss Volumnia, like three heroines of a novel, bathed in tears, and Mrs. Hoskins sitting in the midst of them, knitting a comforter, and giving them good advice.