the looks of it: you never seed sech a lookin' thing in all your born days as that bunnit was. Sary, she looked at it, and then she looked at Abner, an' then at the bunnit agin; an' _then_ she let fly." "Poor Sarah!" said Nurse Lucy, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. "What did she say?" "_I_ can't tell ye what she said," replied the farmer. "What did your old cat say when Spot caught hold of her tail the other day? An' yet there was language enough in what Sary said. I tell ye the hull dictionary was flyin' round that room for about ten minutes,--Webster's Unabridged, an' nothin' less. An' Abner, he jest stood thar, bobbin' his head up an' down, and openin' an' shettin' his mouth, as if he'd like to say somethin' if he could get a chance. But when Sary was so out of breath that she couldn't say another word, an' hed to stop for a minute, Abner jest says, 'Sary, I guess you're a little excited. Jacob an' me'll go out an' take a look at the stock,' says he, 'and come back when you're feelin' calmer.' An' he nods to me, an' out we both goes, before Sary could git her breath agin. I didn't say nothin', 'cause I was laughin' so inside 't I couldn't. Abner, he walked along kind o' solemn, shakin' his head every little while, an' openin' an' shettin' his mouth. When we got to the stable-door he looked at me a minute, and then he said, 'The tongue is a onruly member, Jacob! I _thought_ that was kind of a curus lookin' basket, though!' and that was every word he said about it." "Oh, what delightfully funny people!" cried Hilda. "What did the wife say when you came in to supper, Farmer Hartley?" "She warn't thar," replied the farmer. "She had a headache, the gals said, and had gone to bed. I sh'd think she _would_ have had a headache,--but thar," he added, rising suddenly and beginning to search in his capacious pockets, "I declar' for 't, if I hain't forgotten Huldy's letter! Sary an' her bunnit put everything else out of my head." Hilda sprang up in delight to receive the envelope which the farmer handed to her; but her face fell a little when she saw that it was not from her parents. She reflected, however, that she had had a double letter only two days before, and that she could not expect another for a week, as Mr. and Mrs. Graham wrote always with military punctuality. There was no doubt as to the authorship of the letter. The delicate pointed handwriting, the tiny seal of gilded wax, the faint perfume which the missive exhaled, all said to her at once, "Madge Everton." With a feeling which, if not quite reluctance, was still not quite alacrity, Hildegarde broke the pretty seal, with its Cupid holding a rose to his lips, and read as follows:-- SARATOGA, July 20.