“What, our cousins the Foresters?” exclaimed the two Lees. “Why I think Aunt Fay might have consulted with mamma about it,” continued the elder one, “however, it will be a great thing for Miss Clemson to have them, for the girls are immensely wealthy.” “Yes, Miss Lee.” I replied, trying to be very calm. “But who would have thought, when your aunt, the now rich Mrs. Fay, and your mother kept the fashionable boarding school, at which Miss Fleming was educated, that Miss Fleming’s daughter would in turn be governess to the nieces of Mrs. Fay and her sister. Life has many strange reverses, Mr. Colton.” Poor Steenie Colton, colored to the roots of his faded hair and whiskers. I suppose he thought I was going to tell him of his respectable old grandfather, who had kept a very nice meat and vegetable store, but I spared him, for I felt I had said enough to my discomfited gossips. “Now tell me, Miss Lee,” I asked, “who all were at this evening party of Lizzie Fenton’s.” “It was no evening party, Miss Duval,” replied the young lady sulkily. “Neither Ellen nor I have said so. Mr. Colton went in with us during the evening to see Aunt Fay.” “Excuse me,” I said, “but did you go by invitation?” “Why, Miss Duval?” inquired the younger one pertly, as her elder sister answered me in the negative. “Because,” I replied, “my friend has been accused of heartlessness and want of feeling by one whom I respect, and to clear Miss Clemson in Cornelia Payne’s opinion, is all I care for. Others may think as they please of her, but Cornelia can appreciate such a noble good woman as Mary Clemson.” The conversation naturally flagged after this, and soon the morning visiters bade us good day. “Bravo!” cried Cornelia, after they all left, clapping her little hands on my shoulders. “Bravo! Captain Duval, why you have routed my poor little gossiping brigade completely, put them all to flight.” “They are the most disagreeable people that visit us,” said Mrs. Payne; “as for those silly Miss Lees, I wonder, Cornelia, how you can endure them.” “Oh, my dear mother,” replied the daughter, “it takes all sorts of people to make up the world. You know old Patsie tells you that every day. But, Enna, I must know this paragon of yours; we will call on her together.” I was about to remonstrate with Cornelia for her harsh and hasty judgment, during the preceding conversation, but the entrance of some other visiters prevented me.