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Mr. Graham's country-house boasted a fine, old-fashioned entry,
with a door at either end, both of which usually stood open during
the warm weather, admitting a cool current of air, and rendering
the neighborhood of the front entrance a favorite resort
for the family, especially during the early hours of the day, when
the warm sun had no access to the spot; and the shady yard,
which sloped gradually down to the road, was refreshing and
grateful to the sight. Here, on a pleasant June morning, Isabel
Clinton, and her cousin Kitty Ray, had made themselves comfortable,
each according to her own idea of what constituted comfort.

Isabel had drawn a large arm-chair close to the door-sill, ensconced
herself in it, and, although she held in her hand a piece
of worsted-work, was gazing idly down the road. She was a
beautiful girl, tall and finely formed, with a delicate complexion,
clear blue eyes, and rich, light, flowing curls. The same lovely
child, whom Gertrude had gazed upon with rapture, as, leaning
against the window of her father's house, she watched old True
while he lit his lamp, had ripened into an equally lovely woman.
Her uncommon beauty aided and enhanced by all the advantages

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of dress which skill could suggest or money provide, she was
universally admired, flattered and caressed.

At an early age deprived of her mother, and left for some
years almost wholly to the care of servants, she soon learned to
appreciate at more than their true value the outward attractions
she possessed; and her aunt, under whose tutelage she had been
since she left school, was little calculated to counteract in her this
undue self-admiration. An appearance of conscious superiority
which distinguished her, and the independent air with which she
tapped against the door-step with her little foot, might safely be
attributed, then, to her conviction that Belle Clinton, the beauty
and the heiress, was looking vastly well, as she sat there, attired
in a blue cashmere morning-dress, richly embroidered, and flowing
open in front, for the purpose of displaying an equally rich
flounced cambric petticoat. It can scarcely be wondered at that
she was herself pleased and satisfied with an outward appearance
that could not fail to please and satisfy the most severe critic.

On a low step at her feet sat Kitty Ray, a complete contrast to
her cousin in looks, manners, and many points of character. Kitty
was one of those whom the world usually calls a sweet little creature,
lively, playful, and affectionate. She was so small that her
childish manners became her; so full of spirits that her occasional
rudeness claimed pardon on that score; too thoughtless to be
always amiable or always wise; and for all other faults her warm-heartedness
and generous enthusiasm must plead an excuse to one
who wished, or even endeavored, to love her as she wished and
expected to be loved by everybody. She was a pretty girl, always
bright and animated, mirthful and happy; fond of her cousin Belle,
and sometimes influenced by her, though often, on the other hand,
enlisting with all her force on the opposite side of some contested
question. Unlike Belle, she was seldom well dressed, for, though
possessed of ample means, she was very careless. On the present
occasion, her dark silk wrapper was half concealed by a crimson
flannel sack, which she held tightly around her, declaring it was
a dreadful chilly morning, and she was half-frozen to death—she
certainly would go and warm herself at the kitchen fire, if she
were not afraid of encountering that she-dragon Mrs. Ellis; she

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was sure she did not see, if they must sit in the door-way, why
Belle could n't come to the side-door, where the sun shone beautifully.
“O, I forgot, though,” added she; “complexion!”

“Complexion!” said Belle; “I'm no more afraid of hurting
my complexion than you are; I'm sure I never freckle, or tan
either.”

“I know that; but you burn all up, and look like a fright.”

“Well, if I did n't, I should n't go there to sit; I like to be
at the front of the house, where I can see the passing. I wonder
who those people are, coming up the road; I've been watching
them for some time.”

Kitty stood up, and looked in the direction to which Belle
pointed. After observing the couple who were approaching for a
minute or two, she exclaimed, “Why, that's Gertrude Flint! I
wonder where she's been! and who can that be with her? I
did n't know there was a beau to be had about here.”

“Beau!” said Belle, sneeringly.

“And why not a beau, Cousin Belle! I'm sure he looks like
one.”

“I would n't give much for any of her beaux!” said Belle.

“Would n't you?” said Kitty. “You 'd better wait until you
see who they are; you near-sighted people should n't decide in
such a hurry. I can tell you that he is a gentleman you would n't
object to walking with, yourself; it's Mr. Bruce, the one we met
in New Orleans.”

“I don't believe it!” exclaimed Belle, starting up.

“You will soon have a chance to see for yourself; for he is
coming home with her.”

“He is?—What can he be walking with her for?”

“To show his taste, perhaps. I am sure he could not find more
agreeable company.”

“You and I don't agree about that,” replied Belle. “I don't
see anything very agreeable about her.”

“Because you are determined not to, Belle. Everybody else
thinks her charming, and Mr. Bruce is opening the gate for her
as politely as if she were a queen; I like him for that.”

“Do see,” said Belle; “she's got on that white cape-bonnet

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of hers! and that checked gingham dress! I wonder what Mr.
Bruce thinks of her, and he such a critic in regard to ladies'
dress.”

Gertrude and her companion now drew near the house; the
former looked up, saw the young ladies in the door-way, and
smiled pleasantly at Kitty, who was making strange grimaces,
and giving significant glances, over Belle's shoulder; but Mr.
Bruce, who seemed much engaged by the society he was already
enjoying, did not observe either of them; and they distinctly
heard him say, as he handed Gertrude a small parcel he had been
carrying for her, “I believe I won't come in; it's such a bore to
have to talk to strangers.—Do you work in the garden, mornings,
this summer?”

“No,” replied Gertrude, “there is nothing left of my garden
but the memory of it.”

“Why, Miss Gertrude!” said the young man, “I hope these
new comers have n't interfered with—” Here, observing the direction
of Gertrude's eyes, he raised his own, saw Belle and Kitty
standing opposite to him, and, compelled now to recognize and
speak with them, went forward to shake hands, trusting to his
remarks about strangers in general, and these new comers in particular,
not having been overheard.

Although overheard, the young ladies chose to take no notice
of that which they supposed intended for unknown individuals.

They were mistaken, however; Mr. Bruce knew, perfectly well,
that the nieces of the present Mrs. Graham were the same girls
whom he had met at the south, and was, nevertheless, indifferent
about renewing his acquaintance. His vanity, however, was not
proof against the evident pleasure they both manifested at seeing
him again, and he was in a few minutes engaged in an animated
conversation with them, while Gertrude quietly entered the house,
and went up stairs unnoticed. She sought Emily's room, to which
she had always free access, and was giving an account of her
morning's expedition to the village, and the successful manner in
which she had accomplished various commissions and errands,
when Mrs. Ellis put her head in at the door, and said, with a most
distressed voice and countenance, “Hasn't Gertrude?—O, there

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you are! Do tell me what Mrs. Wilkins said about the strawberries.”

“I engaged three quarts; has n't she sent them?”

“No, but I'm thankful to hear they're coming; I have been
so plagued about the dinner.”

She now came in, shut the door, and, seating herself, exclaimed,
with something like a groan, “I declare, Emily, such an ironing
as our girls have got to do to-day! you never saw anything like
it! There's no end to the fine clothes Mrs. Graham and those
nieces of hers put into our wash. I declare, it's a shame! Rich
as they are, they might put out their washing. I've been helping,
myself, as much as I could; but, as Mrs. Prime says, one
can't do everything at once; and I've had to see the butcher,
make puddings and blanc-mange, and been worried to death, all
the time, because I had forgotten to engage those strawberries.
So Mrs. Wilkins had n't sent her fruit to market when you got
there?”

“No, but she was in a great hurry, getting it ready; it would
have been gone in a very short time.”

“Well, that was lucky. I don't know what I should have
done without the berries, for I've no time to hunt up anything
else for dessert. I've got just as much as I can do till dinner-time.
Mrs. Graham never kept house before, and don't know how
to make allowance for anything. She comes home from Boston,
expects to find everything in apple-pie order, and never asks or
cares who does the work.”

Mrs. Prime's voice was now heard, calling at the back-staircase,—
“Mrs. Ellis, Miss Wilkins' boy has fetched your strawberries,
and the hulls an't off o' one on 'em; he said they had n't
no time.”

“That's too bad!” exclaimed the tired, worried housekeeper.
“Who's going to take the hulls off, I should like to know? Katy
is busy enough, and I'm sure I can't do it.”

“I will, Mrs. Ellis,—let me do it,” said Gertrude, following
Mrs. Ellis, who was now half-way down stairs.

“No, no! don't you touch to, Miss Gertrude,” said Mrs. Prime;
“they'll only stain your fingers all up.”

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“No matter if they do; my hands are not made of white kid.
They'll bear washing.”

Mrs. Ellis was only too thankful for Gertrude's help, and, seating
herself in the dining-room, she commenced the task. In the
mean while, Belle and Kitty were doing their best to entertain
Mr. Bruce, who, sitting on the door-steps, and leaning back against
a pillar of the piazza, from time to time cast his eyes down the
entry, and up the staircase, in hopes of Gertrude's reäppearance;
and, despairing of it at last, he was on the point of taking his
departure, when his sister Fanny came in at the gate, and, running
up the yard, was rushing past the assembled trio and into the
house.

Her brother, however, stretched out his arm, caught her, and,
before he let her go, whispered something in her ear.

“Who is that wild Indian?” asked Kitty Ray, as Fanny ran
across the entry and disappeared.

“A sister of mine,” answered Ben, in a nonchalant manner.

“Why! is she?” inquired Kitty, with interest; “I have seen
her here several times, and never took any notice of her. I
did n't know she was your sister. What a pretty girl she is!”

“Do you think so?” said Ben; “sorry I can't agree with you.
I think she's a fright.”

Fanny now reäppeared, and, stopping a moment on her way up
stairs, called out, without any ceremony, “She says she can't come;
she's busy.”

“Who?” asked Kitty, in her turn catching Fanny and detaining
her.

“Miss Flint.”

Mr. Bruce colored slightly, and Belle Clinton observed it.

“What is she doing?” inquired Kitty.

“Hulling strawberries.”

“Where are you going, Fanny?” asked her brother.

“Up stairs.”

“Do they let you go all over the house?”

“Miss Flint said I might go up and bring down the birds.”

“What birds?”

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“Her birds, I am going to hang them in the sun, and then
they'll sing beautifully.”

She ran off, and soon came back again with a cage in her hand,
containing the little monias, sent by Willie from Calcutta.

“There, Kitty,” cried Belle; “I think those are the birds that
wake us up so early every morning with their noise.”

“Very likely,” said Kitty; “bring them here, will you,
Fanny? I want to see them.—Goodness!” continued she, “what
little creatures they are!—do look at them, Mr. Bruce,—they
are sweet pretty.”

“Put them down on the door-step, Fanny,” said Ben, “so that
we can see them better.”

“I'm afraid you'll frighten them,” replied Fanny; “Miss Gertrude
does n't like to have them frightened.”

“No, we won't,” said Ben; “we are disposed to be very
friendly to Miss Gertrude's birds. Where did she get them,—do
you know, Fanny?”

“Why, they are India birds; Mr. Sullivan sent them to her.”

“Who is he?”

“O, he is a very particular friend; she has letters from him
every little while.”

“What Mr. Sullivan?” asked Belle. “Do you know his
Christian name?”

“I suppose it's William,” said Fanny. “Miss Emily always
calls the birds little Willies.”

“Belle!” exclaimed Kitty, “that's your William Sullivan!”

“What a favored man he seems to be!” said Mr. Bruce, in a
tone of sarcasm; “the property of one beautiful lady, and the
particular friend of another.”

“I don't know what you mean, Kitty,” said Belle, tartly.
“Mr. Sullivan is a junior partner of my father's, but I have not
seen him for years.”

“Except in your dreams, Belle,” suggested Kitty. “You
forget.”

Belle now looked angry.

“Do you dream about Mr. Sullivan?” asked Fanny, fixing

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her eyes on Belle as she spoke. “I mean to go and ask Miss
Gertrude if she does.”

“Do,” said Kitty; “I'll go with you.”

They ran across the entry, opened the door into the dining-room,
and both put the question to her at the same moment.

Taken thus by surprise, Gertrude neither blushed nor looked
confused, but answered, quietly, “Yes, sometimes; but what do
you, either of you, know of Mr. Sullivan;—why do you ask?”

“O, nothing,” answered Kitty; “only some others do, and we
are inquiring round to see how many there are;” and she shut
the door and ran back in triumph, to tell Belle she might as well
be frank, like Gertrude, and plead guilty to the weakness; it
looked so much better than blushing and denying it.

But it would not do to joke with Belle any longer; she was
seriously offended, and took no pains to conceal the fact. Mr.
Bruce felt awkward and annoyed, and soon went away, leaving the
two cousins to settle their difficulty as they best could. As soon
as he had gone, Belle folded up her work, and walked up stairs to
her room with great dignity, while Kitty staid behind to laugh
over the matter, and improve her opportunity to make friends with
Fanny Bruce; for Kitty was not a little interested in the brother,
and labored under the common, but often mistaken idea, that in
cultivating the acquaintance of the sister she should advance her
cause. Perhaps she was somewhat induced to this step by her
having observed that Gertrude appeared to be an equal favorite
with both.

She therefore called Fanny to sit beside her, put her arm round
her waist, and commenced talking about Gertrude, and the origin
and extent of the intimacy which seemed to exist between her and
the Bruce family.

Fanny, who was always communicative, willingly informed her
of the circumstances which had attached her so strongly to a friend
who was some years her senior.

“And your brother,” said Kitty; “he has known her some
time, has n't he?”

“Yes, indeed, I suppose so,” answered Fanny, carelessly.

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