Aunt kept her eyes on the stove after this until I rose to leave the room. “Good-night dear,” said she then, kissing me lovingly. She looked as if the last of ever so many cherished hopes was on its flight. I write in a little library that opens out of the back-parlor, and is warmed by the book-parlor stove. Mr. Cullen has just entered the parlor; where he talks softly to Ponto, and rummages the newspapers. Now aunt comes in, and after the morning greetings, she says, clearing her throat--“So you think Paulina improves?” “In some respects; don’t you?” “Yes, I suppose she does. But breakfast is quite ready, Alfred. Monde, dear--” coming this way. “Yes, dear aunt, I come.” * * * * * _Evening._ This has been the busiest day! I couldn’t even find time to get this already longest of all letters ready for the mail. I will therefore sit here, now that it is all over, now that all have gone to rest but me, and tell you about it; and let me do it in little skirmishing scenes like this. Scene 1. _The Breakfast Table._ _Judge Hedelquiver._ “So Burchard & Bean are lending their interests to the Nicaragua route?” _Mr. Cullen._ “Yes; and so are Cornish & Brothers. They are much more substantial.” _Mrs. Hedelquiver._ “The Nicaragua route, the Panama rail-road, free trade, and so on--Frederic and Rosamonde think that these are going to do not a little toward making this world all over new. They think they are going to do their part in putting down wars and every sort of thing that isn’t brotherly and according to what the gospel enjoins. Monde, have you water? Oh yes, I see. Now I’ve tried again and again to see what connection there can possibly be between peace and the Panama rail-road, for instance; and I can’t. I don’t half believe there is any--do you, Alfred?” _Mr. Cullen, laughing._ “Oh yes, mother?” _Mrs. Hedelquiver._ “Yes, I suppose you do. You and Frederic, and Monde think just alike about every thing, I see. Have some more chocolate, Alfred.” Scene 2. _The Hall._ _Mrs. Hedelquiver._ “What do you want to say to me, dear?” _Monde._ “I want to tell you--why, aunt, you see I want to write mornings, and then ride when I am tired of it--just as I have done all along. And I have been thinking that Mr. Cullen may feel that it belongs to him to--why, to see to me some, perhaps sometimes to ride with me. But it don’t, you know. I would rather attend to myself, and go alone, as I have done. So you wont let him think, will you, dear aunt, that it is necessary for him on any account, or at any time, to go with me any where.” _Mrs. Hedelquiver._ “Why?”