“To dine with the king!” cried Mr. Fayerweather, shouting with laughter; “what could have put such an idea into your head?” Madam was quite offended, and said with great dignity, “Phillis Wheatly drank tea with the queen and I am sure, I do not see why our son may not be invited to dine with the king.” “Oh, well, my dear, I ask your pardon; let George have the cravat, by all means; and you had better let him have my blue-satin waistcoat, laced with silver, to wear also, when he dines with his majesty,” said Mr. Fayerweather, turning away to hide a good-natured smile. “Why, I was thinking of that, but we can’t find room for it in the chest; and I suppose he may find one ready made in London.” This weighty affair settled, and the chest packed again for the seventh and last time, it was locked to go on board the vessel. The morning came, the wind was fair, and the young sailor took his way to the wharf. “Good-bye, Cousin Amie!” he cried, to Mrs. Wendell, who was waiting at her door to shake hands with him; “when I go up the Straits, I’ll get you the handsomest brocade that was ever seen in Salem.” In a few weeks after George’s departure, which time passed gloomily away with his family, Madam Brinley, a sister of Mrs. Fayerweather, came to Salem, and moved into the large house, opposite the Fayerweather mansion, which was a joyful event to Madam. The two sisters bore a strong resemblance to each other in features, with some shades of difference in character. Madam Brinley was a few years the elder; her nose might have been a little more pointed, and, perhaps, her temper rather sharper; then she was more worldly, and took more state upon herself. She was a widow of about ten years standing, with a handsome estate. Having lost several children in infancy, she had remaining only two daughters. Molly, the then fashionable cognomen for Mary, was then just fifteen, and Lizzy, two years younger. The three families residing so near together, made the winter a more pleasant one to the little neighborhood—George’s absence furnishing a subject of joyful anticipation in his return.