Oh, how they did laugh at me! as bursting into tears I recounted all my toils and troubles; the idea of going out sociably to tea, and tending baby for an afternoon’s amusement, drew forth bursts of merriment, that grated on my ears as if in mockery of my overthrown expectations. But I seemed to dwell more particularly on Mrs. Morfield’s disagreeable prophecy than the unsatisfactoriness of the visit, and their laughter redoubled when after representing in glowing colors my toiling efforts to gain the name of a good nurse, I told of my dismay at finding myself branded with such an epithet. This appeared to strike them as the most ridiculous part, and I sat in sullen silence while they gave vent to their amusement. “So much for sympathy,” thought I. For myself, I was thoroughly disgusted with “not being made a stranger of;” but my mortification was complete when the next morning Anne, looking over the fence which joined ours, exclaimed— “You cannot tell what a delightful strawberrying we had. None of us returned with empty baskets, which you know has sometimes been the case; and we not only found strawberries, but, would you believe it, picked up a real, actual _beau_! Now, guess who it was—some one you have not seen in a long time?” I _did_ guess, but remaining silent, my companion continued— “Why, we were actually discovered by the college-poet, Henry Auchinclass, just returned to be lionized and spoiled—who came upon us rather suddenly as we were making somewhat of a noise for well-behaved young ladies, and insisted upon helping us. What a merry time we had! He told us so many funny stories, and then we all concluded to take a walk off to the mill-pond; and I believe we stayed almost as late as you did. Now, where were you?” _Where_, indeed! Oh, that I had gone with the strawberry-party! Anne communicated many more particulars, and then, unperching herself from the fence, ran into the house, while I, in quite a brown study, followed her example. That very afternoon I beheld the object of this commotion, but with that one glance vanished all my disappointed feelings—for _he had a cigar in his mouth_! Sentiment, vanity, castle-building, all ended in smoke. I had always despised tobacco-snuffers, tobacco-chewers, and tobacco-smokers; that one cigar brought down my hero from the pedestal whereon I had placed him, and again I “roamed in maiden meditation, fancy free.” By the bye, Mrs. Morfield never did ask me to make her a visit—she would doubtless require a better baby-tender; and ever since I have had an unconquerable aversion to taking tea sociably. * * * * * THE COQUETTE’S VOW. BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. I promise _while_ I love you, To love you true and well; But, by that cloud above you, How long—I dare not tell.