Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net STORIES BY AMERICAN AUTHORS. VOLUME 4 _The Stories in this Volume are protected by copyright, and are printed here by authority of the authors or their representatives._ [Illustration: Noah Brooks] Stories by American Authors VOLUME IV _MISS GRIEF_ By CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON _LOVE IN OLD CLOATHES_ By H. C. BUNNER _TWO BUCKETS IN A WELL_ By N. P. WILLIS _FRIEND BARTON'S CONCERN_ By MARY HALLOCK FOOTE _AN INSPIRED LOBBYIST_ By J. W. DE FOREST _LOST IN THE FOG_ By NOAH BROOKS NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1897 Copyright, 1884, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Transcriber's Note: In the story LOVE IN OLD CLOATHES, the circumflex (^) is used to indicate that the letters following it are printed in superscript type. MISS GRIEF. By Constance Fenimore Woolson. (_Lippincott's Magazine, May,_ 1880.) "A conceited fool" is a not uncommon expression. Now, I know that I am not a fool, but I also know that I am conceited. But, candidly, can it be helped if one happens to be young, well and strong, passably good-looking, with some money that one has inherited and more that one has earned--in all, enough to make life comfortable--and if upon this foundation rests also the pleasant superstructure of a literary success? The success is deserved, I think: certainly it was not lightly-gained. Yet even with this I fully appreciate its rarity. Thus, I find myself very well entertained in life: I have all I wish in the way of society, and a deep, though of course carefully concealed, satisfaction in my own little fame; which fame I foster by a gentle system of non-interference. I know that I am spoken of as "that quiet young fellow who writes those delightful little studies of society, you know;" and I live up to that definition. A year ago I was in Rome, and enjoying life particularly. I had a large number of my acquaintances there, both American and English, and no day passed without its invitation. Of course I understood it: it is seldom that you find a literary man who is good-tempered, well-dressed, sufficiently provided with money, and amiably obedient to all the rules and requirements of "society." "When found, make a note of it;" and the note was generally an invitation. One evening, upon returning to my lodgings, my man Simpson informed me that a person had called in the afternoon, and upon learning that I was absent had left not a card, but her name--"Miss Grief." The title lingered--Miss Grief! "Grief has not so far visited me here," I said to myself, dismissing Simpson and seeking my little balcony for a final smoke, "and she shall not now. I shall take care to be 'not at home' to her if she continues to call." And then I fell to thinking of Isabel Abercrombie, in whose society I had spent that and many evenings: they were golden thoughts.