The spring following Carrie Howard's death, Rice Corner
was thrown into a commotion by the astounding fact
that Capt. Howard was going out west, and had sold his
farm to a gentleman from the city, whose wife “kept six
servants, wore silk all the time, never went inside of the
kitchen, never saw a churn, breakfasted at ten, dined at
three, and had supper the next day!”

Such was the story which Mercy Jenkins detailed to
us, early one Monday morning, and then, eager to communicate
so desirable a piece of news to others of her acquaintance,
she started off, stopping for a moment as she
passed the wash-room, to see if Sally's clothes “wan't
kinder dingy and yaller.” As soon as she was gone, the
astonishment of our household broke forth, grandma wondering
why Capt. Howard wanted to go to the ends of
the earth, as she designated Chicago, their place of destination,
and what she should do without Aunt Eunice,
who, having been born on grandma's wedding day, was
very dear to her, and then her age was so easy to keep!

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But the best of friends must part, and when at Mrs. Howard's
last tea-drinking with us, I saw how badly they all
felt, and how many tears were shed, I firmly resolved
never to like anybody but my own folks, unless, indeed, I
made an exception in favor of Tom Jenkins, who so often
drew me to school on his sled, and who made such comical
looking jack-o'-lanterns out of the big yellow pumpkins.

In reply to the numerous questions concerning Mr. Gilbert,
the purchaser of their farm, Mrs. Howard could only
reply, that he was very wealthy and had got tired of living
in the city; adding, further, that he wore a “monstrous
pair of musquitoes,” had an evil looking eye, four
children, smoked cigars, and was a lawyer by profession.
This last was all grandma wanted to know about him,—
“that told the whole story,” for there never was but one
decent lawyer, and that was Mr. Evelyn, Cousin Emma's
husband. Dear old lady! — when, a few years ago, she
heard that I, her favorite grandchild, was to marry one
of the craft, she made another exception in his favor, saying
that “if he wasn't all straight, Mary would soon make
him so!”

Within a short time after Aunt Eunice's visit, she left
Rice Corner, and on the same day wagon load after wagon
load of Mr. Gilbert's furniture passed our house, until
Sally declared “there was enough to keep a tavern, and
she didn't see nothin' where they's goin' to put it,” at the
same time announcing her intention of “running down
there after dinner, to see what was going on.”

It will be remembered that Sally was now a married
woman—“Mrs. Michael Welsh;” consequently, mother,
who lived with her, instead of her living with mother, did
not presume to interfere with her much, though she hinted
pretty strongly that she “always liked to see people mind
their own affairs.” But Sally was incorrigible. The

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dinner dishes were washed with a whew, I was coaxed into
sweeping the back room — which I did, leaving the dirt
under the broom behind the door — while Mrs. Welsh,
donning a pink calico, blue shawl, and bonnet trimmed
with dark green, started off on her prying excursion, stopping
by the roadside where Mike was making fence, and
keeping him, as grandma said, “full half an hour by the
clock from his work.”

Not long after Sally's departure, a handsome carriage,
drawn by two fine bay horses, passed our house; and, as
the windows were down, we could plainly discern a pale,
delicate-looking lady, wrapped in shawls, a tall, stylishlooking
girl, another one about my own age, and two
beautiful little boys.

“That's the Gilberts, I know,” said Anna. “Oh, I 'm
so glad Sally's gone, for now we shall have the full particulars;”
and again we waited as impatiently for Sally's
return as we had once done before for grandma.

At last, to our great relief, the green ribbons and blue
shawl were described in the distance, and ere long Sally
was with us, ejaculating, “Oh, my — mercy me!” etc.,
thus giving us an inkling of what was to follow. “Of all
the sights that ever I have seen,” said she, folding up the
blue shawl, and smoothing down the pink calico. “There's
carpeting enough to cover every crack and crevice — all
pure Bristles, too!”

Here I tittered, whereupon Sally angrily retorted, that
“she guessed she knew how to talk proper, if she had n't
studied grarmar.”

“Never mind,” said Anna, “go on; Brussels carpeting
and what else?”

“Mercy knows what else,” answered Sally. “I can't
begin to guess the names of half the things. There's mahogany,
and rosewood, and marble fixin's,—and in Miss

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Gilbert's room there's lace curtains and silk damson
ones—”

A look from Anna restrained me this time, and Sally
continued.

“Mercy Jenkins is there, helpin', and she says Mr. Gilbert
told 'em his wife never et a piece of salt pork in her
life, and knew no more how bread was made than a child
two years old.”

“What a simple critter she must be,” said grandma,
while Anna asked if she saw Mrs. Gilbert, and if that tall
girl was her daughter.

“Yes, I seen her,” answered Sally, “and I guess she's
weakly, for the minit she got into the house she lay down
on the sofa, which Mr. Gilbert says cost seventy-five dollars.
That tall, proud-lookin' thing they call Miss Adaline,
but I'll warrant you don't catch me puttin' on the
Miss. I called her Adaline, and you had orto seen how
her big eyes looked at me. Says she, at last, `Are you
one of pa's new servants?'

“`Servants!' says I, `no, indeed; I 'm Mrs. Michael
Welsh, one of your nighest neighbors.'

“Then I told her that there were two nice girls lived
in the house with me, and she 'd better get acquainted
with 'em, right away; and then with the hatefulest of all
hateful laughs, she asked if `they wore glass beads and
went barefoot.”'

I fancied that neither Juliet nor Anna were greatly
pleased at being introduced by Sally, the housemaid, to
the elegant Adaline Gilbert, who had come to the country
with anything but a favorable impression of its inhabitants.
The second daughter, the one about my own
age, Sally said they called Nellie; “and a nice, clever
creature she is, too — not a bit stuck up like t'other one.
Why, I do believe she'd walked every big beam in the

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barn before she'd been there half an hour, and the last I
saw of her, she was coaxing a cow to lie still while she got
upon her back!”

How my heart warmed toward the romping Nellie, and
how I wondered if, after that beam-walking exploit, her
hooks and eyes were all in their places! The two little
boys, Sally said, were twins, Edward and Egbert, or, as
they were familiarly called, Burt and Eddie. This was
nearly all she had learned, if we except the fact that the
family ate with silver forks, and drank wine after dinner.
This last, mother pronounced heterodox, while I, who
dearly loved the juice of the grape, and sometimes left
finger marks on the top shelf, whither I had climbed for
a sip from grandma's decanter, secretly hoped I should
some day dine with Nellie Gilbert, and drink all the wine
I wanted, thinking how many times I'd rinse my mouth
so mother should n't smell my breath!

In the course of a few weeks the affairs of the Gilbert
family were pretty generally canvassed in Rice Corner,
Mercy Jenkins giving it as her opinion that “Miss Gilbert
was much the likeliest of the two, and that Mr. Gilbert
was cross, overbearing, and big feeling.”