Tom did not care to show Letty this poem--not that there was anything more in his mind than an artistic admiration of Hesper, and a desire to make himself agreeable in her eyes; but, when Letty, having read it, betrayed no shadow of annoyance with its folly, he was a little relieved. The fact was, the simple creature took it as a pardon to herself. "I am glad you have forgiven me, Tom," she said. "What do you mean?" asked Tom. "For working for Mrs. Redmain with _your_ hands," she said, and, breaking into a little laugh, caught his cheeks between those same hands, and reaching up gave him a kiss that made him ashamed of himself--a little, that is, and for the moment, that is: Tom was used to being this or that a little for the moment. For this same dress, which Tom had thus glorified in song, had been the cause of bitter tears to Letty. He came home _too late_ the day of Mary's visit, but the next morning she told him all about both the first and the second surprise she had had--not, however, with much success in interesting the lordly youth. "And then," she went on, "what do you think we were doing all the afternoon, Tom?" "How should I know?" said Tom, indifferently. "We were working hard at a dress--a dress for a fancy-ball!" "A fancy-ball, Letty? What do you mean? You going to a fancy-ball!" "Me!" cried Letty, with merry laugh; "no, not quite me. Who do you think it was for?" "How should I know?" said Tom again, but not quite so indifferently; he was prepared to be annoyed. "For Mrs. Redmain!" said Letty, triumphantly, clapping her hands with delight at what she thought the fun of the thing, for was not Mrs. Redmain Tom's friend?--then stooping a little--it was an unconscious, pretty trick she had--and holding them out, palm pressed to palm, with the fingers toward his face. "Letty," said Tom, frowning--and the frown deepened and deepened; for had he not from the first, if in nothing else, taken trouble to instruct her in what became the wife of Thomas Helmer, Esq.?--"Letty, this won't do!" Letty was frightened, but tried to think he was only pretending to be displeased. "Ah! don't frighten me, Tom," she said, with her merry hands now changed to pleading ones, though their position and attitude remained the same. But he caught them by the wrists in both of his, and held them tight. "Letty," he said once more, and with increased severity, "this won't do. I tell you, it won't do." "What won't do, Tom?" she returned, growing white. "There's no harm done." "Yes, there is," said Tom, with solemnity; "there _is_ harm done, when _my_ wife goes and does like that. What would people say of _me,_ if they were to come to know--God forbid they should!--that your husband was talking all the evening to ladies at whose dresses his wife had been working all the afternoon!--You don't know what you are doing, Letty. What do you suppose the ladies would think if they were to hear of it?"