But one must say something by way of retaliation for hospitality one cannot reject. So I put it off on any friends of theirs who might have occasion to command us in the West. We should be so happy, and so forth. And, my dear, she has taken me up on it! She's not impersonal now. She is so glad--for dear Kitty's sake--that we are here, and she is sure we will be very good to her--such a sweet girl, no one could help being--which rather cuts down the margin for our goodness. The poor child--I am quoting Mrs. Percifer--knows absolutely no one in the West but the man she is coming to marry (?)and can have no conception of the journey she has before her. She will be _so_ comforted to find us at the end of it. And if anything unforeseen should occur to delay Mr. Harshaw, the fiancé, and prevent his meeting her train, it will be a vast relief to Kitty's friends to know that the dear brave little girl is in good hands--ours, if you can conceive it! Please observe the coolness with which she treats his _not_ meeting that train, after the girl has traversed half the globe to compass her share of their meeting. Well, it's not the American way; but perhaps it will be when bad times have humbled us a little more, and the question is whether we can marry our daughters at all unless we can give them dowries, or professions to support their husbands on, and "feelings" are a luxury only the rich can afford. I hope "Kitty" won't have any; but still more I hope that her young man will arrive on schedule time, and that they can trot round the corner and be married, with Tom and me for witnesses, as speedily as possible. * * * * * I've had such a blow! Tom, with an effort, has succeeded in remembering this Mr. Harshaw who is poor Kitty's fate. He must have been years in this country,--long enough to have citizenized himself and become a member of our first Idaho legislature (I don't believe you even know that we are a State!). Tom was on the supper committee of the ball the city gave them. They were a deplorable set of men; it was easy enough to remember the nice ones. Tom says he is a "chump," if you know what that means. I tell him that every man, married or single, is constitutionally horrid to any other man who has had the luck to be chosen of a charming girl. But I'm afraid Harshaw wasn't one of the nice ones, or I should have remembered him myself; we had them to dinner--all who were at all worth while. Poor Kitty! There is so little here to come for _but_ the man. Well, my dear, here's a pretty kettle of fish! Kitty has arrived, and _one_ Mr. Harshaw. Where _the_ Mr. Harshaw is, _quien sabe_! It's awfully late. Poor Kitty has gone to bed, and has cried herself to sleep, I dare say, if sleep she can. I never have heard of a girl being treated so.