"I beg your pardon, madam," he returned, with much more emphasis on _madam_ than was at all necessary, "I beg your pardon, but I think she has cut the capers; at least she dismissed me of her own accord." I thought of what I had heard, but 'twas a secret, so I kept it safely, although I almost bit my tongue off in my zealous efforts. After Ashmore was gone, Emma, who had taken a violent cold the evening before, took her bed, and was slightly ill for nearly a week. Almost every day Mr. Evelyn called to see how she was, always bringing her a fresh bouquet of flowers. On Thursday, Carrie called, bringing Emma some ice-cream which Aunt Eunice had made. She did not ask to see her, but before she left she asked Anna if she did not wish to buy her old piano. "What will you do without it?" asked Anna. "Oh," said Carrie, "I cannot use two. I have got a new one." The stocking dropped from grandmother's hand as she exclaimed: "What is the world a-comin' to! Got two pianners! Where'd you get 'em?" "My new one was a present, and came from Boston," answered Carrie, with the utmost _sang froid_. "You don't say Ashmore sent it to you! How much did it cost?" asked grandma. "Mr. Ashmore wrote that it cost three hundred and fifty dollars," was Carrie's reply. Grandmother was perfectly horror-stricken; but desirous of making Carrie feel as comfortable as possible, she said, "S'posin somebody should tell him about Penoyer?" For an instant Carrie turned pale, as she said quickly, "What does any one know about him to tell?" "A great deal--more than you think they do--yes, a great deal," was grandma's answer. After that Carrie came _very_ frequently to see us, always bringing something nice for Emma _or grandma_! Meanwhile Mr. Evelyn's visits continued, and when at last Emma could see him I was sure that she received him more kindly than she ever had before. "That'll go yet," was grandma's prediction. But her scheming was cut short by a letter from Emma's father, requesting her immediate return. Mr. Evelyn, who found he had business which required his presence in Worcester, was to accompany her thus far. It was a sad day when she left us, for she was a universal favorite. Sally cried, I cried, and Bill either cried or made believe, for he very industriously wiped his eyes and nasal organ on his shirt sleeves: besides that, things went on wrong side up generally. Grandma was cross--Sally was cross--and the school-teacher was cross; the bucket fell into the well, and the cows got into the corn. I got called up at school and set with some hateful boys, one of whom amused himself by pricking me with a pin, and when, in self-defense, I gave him a good pinch, he actually yelled out: "She keeps a-pinchin' me!" On the whole, 'twas a dreadful day, and when at night I threw myself exhausted upon my little bed I cried myself to sleep, thinking of Cousin Emma and wishing she would come back. CHAPTER VI. MIKE AND SALLY.