When Marius appeared, in answer to the bell, he was ordered to pull down that blind; and if the people did not go away directly, to bid them begone, and blow their horns somewhere out of his hearing. "They will be gone soon enough, sir. It is a busy day with them. They are making a frolic to bridge the Creek, because of what happened—" A terrified glance of Mrs. Temple’s stopped the man in his reference to what had taken place the evening before. It was hoped that the stock of coffee might be husbanded till more could arrive, that the idea of chocolate might be insinuated into the gentleman’s mind, and that the shortness of the wax candles, and the deficiency of light in the hall at night, might possibly escape observation. “The bridge over the Creek being much wanted by every body, sir,” continued Marius, "every body is joining the frolic to work at it; that is, if——" “Not I, nor any of my people. Let me hear no more about it, if you please. I have given no orders to have a bridge built.” Marius withdrew. The cow-horns were presently no longer heard—not that Marius had done any thing to silence them. He knew that the blowers were not thinking of either him or his master; but merely passing to their place of rendezvous, calling all frolickers together by the way. “Temple, you find you can live without your squirrels, I hope,” said the tender father. “Now, no crying! I will not have you cry.” “Bring me your papa’s cup, my dear,” interposed his mother; “and persuade him to try these early strawberries. The gardener surprised us this morning with a little plate of strawberries. Tell your papa about the strawberries in the orchard, my dear.” In the intervals of sobs, and with streaming eyes, Temmy told the happy news that strawberries had spread under all the trees in the orchard, and were so full of blossom, that the gardener thought the orchard would soon look like a field of white clover. “Wild strawberries, I suppose. Tasteless trash!” was the remark upon this intelligence.