Now, sisters, I wasn't brought up in the woods to be scared by owls, as we say in our parts--and if that little upstart thought she would keep me at home by domineering over her mother, she soon found out her mistake, for in less than two minutes a young lady, of about my size, came downstairs, with her beehive bonnet on, a satchel in one hand and an umbrella in the other. "You will find the way easy enough," says Cousin E. E. "The cars take you close to the office, and you will get splendid oysters at the market." Oysters! the very word made my mouth water, for if there is a thing on earth that I deliciously adore, it is oysters--such as you get here in York. "Oysters!" says I, "why didn't you tell me that before?" "We did," says she; "of course we did!" I was too polite to contradict her; but I'll take my Bible oath that not one word about shell-fish of any kind had been mentioned that morning--nothing but a great city lion, Rockaways, bivalves, and animals like them. Still I said nothing, but went out encouraged by the idea that I was to have something to eat as well as the lion. It was afternoon, and the street-car wasn't overfull, so I took a seat in one corner and began to think over a piece of poetry that I have got into my mind, which shortened the way to Dempster's office wonderfully. In less than no time I seemed to get there, but he had just stepped out. One of the clerks said that he thought he had gone to the market for lunch. Oh, mercy! I felt as if my oysters were all out to sea again. I was too late. "Which is the way to the market?" says I. "I will show you," says he--which he did--walking by my side till I got in sight of a long, low, broad-spreading building that seemed all roof, and stone floors opening everywhere right into the street. "Now," says the young gentleman, "you won't help finding your way, for there is Mr. Dempster himself." He lifted his hat and bowed so politely that I felt impressed with a desire to reward him. Taking out my pocket-book, I handed him a ten-cent stamp, with a grateful and most benevolent smile on my countenance. I am sure of that from the glow I felt. He blushed--he seemed to choke--he stepped back and put on his hat with a jerk, but he didn't reach out his hand with the grateful spontaneosity I expected. His modesty touched me. "Take it," says I, "it is no more than you deserve." "Excuse me," says he; and his face was as red as a fireman's jacket. "Good-afternoon;" and as true as you live he went off without taking the money. I never saw anything like it. XXXII. A DEMOCRATIC LUNCH. As soon as I could recover from the surprise any New England woman would feel at a thing like this, I saw Cousin Dempster coming toward me. "Come, hurry up," says he. "You were so late, I thought perhaps you had misunderstood, and come directly here. This way; be careful where you step; Fulton market is not the neatest place on earth."