"Oh, I spoke of the milk and the butter and the cheese--the lovely cream-cheese--and the honey. I wonder," she interrupted herself, "that bees don't keep a cow, cream is so ravishing with honey. And, when papa's mouth began to water, I heaved a sigh, and so sighing I rolled up my eyes, and ejaculated how happy we'd be. And what do you suppose he said?" "Something very profane, I'm afraid," answered Patty. "No," Floss said. "He didn't. If you'll believe it, he only smacked his lips, and asked if Burleigh raised early vegetables." "Is that what you cried for?" asked the other, looking at her cousin's swollen eyes. Instead of answering, Floss sprang from her perch, ran to her friend, and threw her arms about her neck, bursting into tears. The two foolish creatures wept together, and then kissed each other, and doubtless felt better for the demonstration. The truth was, that the interview between Mr. Plant and his daughter had been a painful one. He cared little for Flossy's society, and the sympathy between them was not of the closest. But he could not, without difficulty, reconcile himself to have his only child, city born and bred, bury herself in the country, and unite herself to a man so far below his idea of a desirable match. He had received the announcement with unaffected amazement, appearing more deeply moved by it than Flossy had ever seen him. It was only after a long and trying scene that he yielded to his daughter's entreaties and his own desire for peace, and gave a grudging consent. "I think that is enough of a weep," Patty said, giving her cousin a hug. "I'm sure I don't know what we should cry about." "Now I'll tell you. He's here," said Flossy impressively. "Who's here?" "Burleigh." "Here? In the house? Have you hidden him in a closet?" "Oh, dear, no! In Boston, I mean. He's coming to dine to-day. I told father." "Of all schemers!" Patty laughed. "Really, Floss, uncle Chris will frighten Burleigh to death. They won't know how to take each other." "No," was the answer. "But they needn't take each other. I'm the one to be taken." "O Dandelion, Floss-head!" Patience cried, catching her cousin's face between her hands, and looking deep into her eyes. "Are you happy, Floss? Is being in love so delightful?" "That depends upon who is in love," the little witch answered. "Some people in that predicament devote all their energies to making themselves uncomfortable. Let me go: there's the postman." Out of the room she darted, leaving Patty, with cheeks aflame, to wonder how far her secret had been divined. The postman brought no letter for Flossy; but at the same hour, in another part of the city, an epistle was delivered bearing the Montfield postmark. Miss Sturtevant tore it open in her cheerless room, and read as follows:-- MONTFIELD, Nov. 26.