A young gentleman, a favorite in the village, boarding at the same place, asked permission to attend me to the party. His favorite girl was a particular friend of mine, and he had been escort to both on a previous occasion, but now she was out of the village. Without telling him I could not go, and for what reason, I endeavored to put him off to go alone, or find another lady, saying, "I must learn my lessons; I did not like to be out late." He knew that, but had resolved I should go this time, as I had successfully excused myself before. He protested I was studying too much; a social evening would do me good; said he would come home as soon as I said, after nine o'clock. Thus he endeavored to overrule all my objections and excuses. There was no _real_ reason why I should not go with him, only the one why I should not go at all. I did not intend to tell him I had such an one, but he gave me no peace until I told him I could not go, and why. "No invitation!" repeated he, in astonishment; "how is that?" "Excuse me; I must keep my suspicions to myself." He sat thoughtfully a few moments, then, starting up as if a new thought occurred to him, said-- "I understood they were not intending to invite 'hired girls;' but why should they slight you? You are as much a pupil at the academy as any one there." "Yes, but I work for my board, and next summer I shall probably be 'hired girl' again." "Well," said he, pleasantly, "we can have a party here." I protested against his staying on my account. "Yes, yes, they made me promise to come, but I insisted on qualifying it with 'providential,' and I consider this I have learned quite in that light. Nay, speak not, I command you. I _shall not_ go. I only wish Mary was at home. However, we can have a pleasant evening here, and no thanks to the 'codfish aristocracy.'" The next day, inquiry was made after Mr. ----, and why he did not attend the party; but he gave them no more satisfaction than they were entitled to. Afterward I was invited whenever there was a party; I did not care about going always, though I was glad to have my right to an invitation unquestioned, as, according to my definition of respectable, a man or woman either was so who could _conscientiously_ respect himself. The next summer, and for years, until my marriage, I had the satisfaction of knowing that my schools were not failures. Though I had anticipated so long, the enjoyment was equal to the anticipation. Here Mrs. Clark's history of her days of trial ceased. * * * * * "Why did she not write more of her school-teaching life?" I asked. "I should like to hear her account of it; I am sure it would be interesting."