"Let them come straight here! What should prevent them? There is an abundance of room for them--baby, nurse, and all. It will be a grand arrangement!" said Lewis, heartily. Sarah was backward in replying. "Father and mother may object. I would not wound them by interference with their guests." "I will answer that mother will thank us to take care of them until her scrubbing and scalding are done. And Lucy would not be willing to risk her baby's health in a damp house." "I will go and see mother to-morrow about it," concluded Sarah. She still appeared dubious as to the expediency of the proposed step, a thoughtfulness that did not wear away during the whole evening. The Bensons had not visited New York the preceding year. They were detained at the South by a combination of causes, the principal of which was the long and fatal illness of Philip's mother. Lucy had written repeatedly of her intense desire to see her home once more, declaiming against the providences that had thwarted their projects, like an impatient, unreasonable child. "Philip says it is not convenient for him to go just yet," said her letter to her sister, "and that our part of the country is as healthy as Saratoga itself; but I have vowed that I will not wait one day beyond the time I have set. It sets me wild to think of being in Broadway again--of visiting and shopping, and seeing you all. We have been so dull here since Mrs. Benson's death, and Philip is as solemn as a judge. One of his married sisters will stay with the old gentleman while we are away. O Sarah, I am sick of housekeeping and baby-nursing! It will do well enough for me when I need spectacles and a wig; but now, while I am young enough to enjoy life, it is insufferable!" "Not very domestic, is she?" observed Lewis, folding up the letter, which Sarah had handed him. "Ah! it is not every man who has such a gem of a wife as I have! It appears to me that the married women of these days are not satisfied unless they have a string of beaux as long as that of a popular single belle. How is it, little one? Do you ever catch yourself wishing that your husband were not such an old-fashioned piece of constancy, and would give some other fellow a chance to say a pretty thing, when you are in company?" "I do not complain," said Sarah, demurely. "Not in words, perhaps; your patience is wonderful in everything. But how do you feel when you see your old neighbor, Mrs. Bond, waltzing every set with the gayest gallant in the ball-room, while your jailor does not like to have you 'polk' at all, and favors your dancing only with men whom he knows to be respectable?" "I feel that Mr. Hammond is a sensible man, and careful of his wife's reputation, even in trifles, while Mr. Bond"-- "Go on! finish your sentence!" "And his lady are a well-matched pair!"