“Now I must tell you about our tower among the mantua-makers,” said she, at length settling herself in the drawing-room, and mopping her face with her handkerchief, after her exercise; “but, girls, why don’t you follow my example and take your bonnets off? Don’t wait to be coaxed—Mrs. Allanby don’t expect you to make strangers of yourselves with her; as we’ve come to spend the afternoon, we may as well be comfortable first as last. But where was I about the mantua-makers? Oh, I believe I hadn’t began. Well, a lady at the tavern gave us the names of three of them, written on a card, with directions where they were to be found. So we got into an omnibus, in front of the hotel, and were let out at the corner next to the place that was nearest. We soon found the house—as I’m alive, a large three-story brick, with marble steps, and nothing like a sign about it. But the name was on the door-plate, and we rang the bell. A black boy took us into the parlors, and what should we see but Brussels carpets, and looking-glasses as tall as yours, and spring-seated chairs, and a pyanna, and every thing as fine as you please. ‘Mercy on us, maw,’ says Jane Louyza, ‘there’s nothing looks like a mantua-maker’s here!’ I thought so myself, and told the girls we had better slip out before any body came; but Easter Ann would not hear to it—she said it would look undignified, and, says she, ‘If we are mistaken, maw, let me make the apology.’ “In a few minutes a lady steps in, dressed in a handsome black silk wrapper, with a watch at her side, looking as stiff as a poker. ‘We were told that we would find Mrs. N——, the mantua-maker, here, ma’am,’ says I. “‘I am Mrs. N——,’ says she, stiffer, if any thing, than before. “‘We have three dresses to make, ma’am,’ says Easter Ann; ‘perhaps it wouldn’t be convenient for you to undertake them?’ “‘I am always prepared to do any amount of work,’ says she. “‘What may be your charges, ma’am?’ says I. “‘That depends upon the material, and the style in which it is to be made,’ says she. “‘One is a silk, and the other two are balzarines,’ says I. “‘And we want them made fashionably,’ put in Jane Louyza. “‘I make every thing fashionably,’ says she, as high as if she was the president’s lady. “We had our bundles with us, and we opened them, and though our dresses are beautiful, considering how cheap we got them, she looked at them without saying a word, and didn’t even deign to take them in her hands. ‘I want mine made quite plain,’ says I; ‘but my daughters will expect to have theirs flounced off to the top of the mode—mine’s the silk one. But we’ll have to settle first what you’ll take to do the job—it’s a large one, remember, ma’am—three dresses—and it will be nothing but fair that you should make allowance for that.’ “‘I never make abatement,’ says she; ‘my charge is three dollars for a plain silk dress, and four for such as the others, if full trimmed.’