"Perhaps," said Mrs. Cushing decidedly; "but our Dolly can't marry every good-hearted worthy fellow that comes in her way, if he is in love; and I'm sure I'm in no hurry to give her away,--she is the light and music of the house." "So she is," said the Doctor; "I couldn't do without her; but I pity poor Higgins." "Oh, you may spare your pity; he won't break his heart. Never fear. Men never die of that. There'll be girls enough in his parish, and he'll be married six months after he gets a place--ministers always are." The Doctor made some few corrections in the end of his sermon without contradicting this unceremonious statement of his wife's. "But," continued Mrs. Cushing, "the thing is a trial to Dolly; I think it would be quite as well if she shouldn't see any more of him for the present, and I have just got a letter from Deborah urging me to let her go to Boston for a visit. Mother says she is getting old, now, and that she shall never see Dolly unless the child comes to her. Here's the letter." The Doctor took it, and we, looking over his shoulder, see the large, sharp, decided style of writing characteristic of Miss Debby Kittery: "DEAR SISTER: "Mother wants you to let us have Dolly to make a good, long visit. Mother is getting old now, and says she hasn't seen Dolly since she has grown up, and thinks we old folks will be the better for a little young life about us. You remember Cousin Jane Davies, that married John Dunbar and went over to England? Well, brother Israel Kittery has taken a fancy to her youngest son during his late visit to England, and is going to bring him to Boston and turn over his business to him and make him his heir. We are expecting them now by every ship, and have invited them to spend the Christmas Holidays with us. I understand this young Alfred Dunbar is a bright, quick-witted young slip, just graduated from Oxford, and one that finds favor in all eyes. He will help make it lively for Dolly, and if anything should come of it why it will be all the better. So if you will have Dolly ready to leave I will be up to visit you in December and bring her home with me. Mother sends a great deal of love,--her rheumatism has gone to her right arm now, which is about all the variety she is treated to; but she is always serene, as usual, and sends no end of loving messages. "Your affectionate sister, "DEBBY. "P. S.--Don't worry about Dolly's dress. My pink brocade will cut over for her, and it is nearly as good as new. I'll bring it when I come." On reading this letter the Doctor fell into a deep muse. "Well, what do you think?" asked his wife. "What? Who? I?" said the Doctor, with difficulty collecting himself from his reverie. "Yes, _you_," answered his wife incisively, with just the kind of a tone to wake one out of a nap.