The next morning Mrs. Doctor Clayton was all smiles, and when, with her handsome eyes, shining hair, and tasteful wrapper, she descended to the breakfast-room, she attracted much attention, and more than one asked who she was, as they turned for a second glance. Nothing of this escaped the doctor, and with a glow of pride he forgot the vexations of the night previous, and gave vent to a mental _pshaw!_ as he thought of his dream; for well he knew that the little plain-faced Rosa could not compare with the splendid woman at his side. Breakfast being over, he ventured to suggest the possibility of their soon receiving a call from her aunt; but Dell hastily replied, that such a thing was hardly probable, as her Aunt had her own affairs to attend to, and would not trouble herself about them. The doctor’s hands went into his pockets, and his eyes went over inquiringly to his wife, who continued speaking rapidly, as if it were a painful duty which she felt compelled to perform. “I don’t know where you got the idea that Uncle Marshall is such a great man—not from me, certainly. But got it you have, and it’s time you knew the truth. He is a good, honest man, I dare say, and respectable, too; but he is not one of the _ton_, by any means. Why, he’s nothing more nor less than a _tailor_, and earns his bread from day to day.” “But his wife”—interrupted the doctor—“how happens it that she supports so much style?” “Oh, that’s easily accounted for,” returned Dell. “They have no children—she is fond of dress, and spends all she can get for that purpose. She was an apprentice girl and learned her trade in my uncle’s shop, and it is said, sometimes helps him now when he is pressed hard.” “Why did you never tell me this before?” asked the doctor, his brow growing thoughtful. “And why should I tell you?” answered Dell. “What did I suppose you cared whether he were a _prince_ or a _tailor_. You married me, I hope, for myself, and not for my relations.” The doctor thought of the ten thousand dollars just in time to force down the answer which sprang to his lips, and which was far better to be unuttered; so, in its place, he asked, “Where do they live?” “On a back street, some distance from here,” said Dell; adding, that their house, though small, was pleasant and neatly furnished. “It is well enough in the country to have a _city Aunt_ on which to plume one’s self,” she continued, laughingly; “but here, where she is known, I do not intend having much intercourse with her, for a _physician_ and _tailor_ will, of course, occupy entirely different positions. However, I must treat her, at first, with a show of politeness, and if you are so disposed, we’ll go round there and call this morning.”