"You are a happy girl, Del. Mrs. Harris says the court and everybody is talking of Mr. Sampson's great plea in that Shore case. Whether he gets it or not, his fortune is made. They say there hasn't been such an argument since Webster's time,--so irresistible. It took every body off their feet." I did not answer a word,--only clothed my soul with sackcloth and ashes, and called it good enough for me. We went to bed. But in the middle of the night I waked Laura. "What's the matter?" said she, springing out of bed. "Don't, Laura!--nothing," said I. "Oh, I thought you were ill! I've been sleeping with one eye open, and just dropped away. What is it?" "Do lie down, then. I only wanted to ask you a question." "Oh, _do_ go to sleep! It's after three o'clock now. We never shall get up. Haven't you been asleep yet?" "No,--I've been thinking all the time. But you are impatient. It's no matter. Wait till to-morrow morning." "No. I am awake now. Tell me, and be done with it, Del." "But I shall want your opinion, you know." "Oh, _will_ you tell me, Del?" "Well, it is this. How do you think a handsome, a _very_ handsome chess-table would do?" "Do!--for what?" "Why,--for my aunt's wedding-gift, you know." "Oh, that! And you have waked me up, at this time of night, from the nicest dream! You cruel thing!" "I am so sorry, Laura! But now that you are awake, just tell me how you like the idea;--I won't ask you another word." "Very well,--very good,--excellent," murmured Laura. In the course of the next ten minutes, however, I remembered that Laura never played chess, and that I had heard Mr. Sampson say once that he never played now,--that it was too easy for work, and too hard for amusement. So I put the chess-table entirely aside, and began again. A position for sleep is, unluckily, the one that is sure to keep one awake. Lying down, all the blood in my body kept rushing to my brain, keeping up perpetual images of noun substantives. If I could have spent my fifty dollars in verbs, in taking a journey, in giving a _fête champêtre_! (Garden lighted with Chinese lanterns, of course,--house covered inside and out with roses.) Things enough, indeed, there were to be bought. But the right thing! A house, a park, a pair of horses, a curricle, a pony-phaëton. But how many feet of ground would fifty dollars buy?--and scarcely the hoof of a horse. There was a diamond ring. Not for me; because "he" had been too poor to offer me one. But I could give it to him. No,--that wouldn't do. He wouldn't wear it,--nor a pin of ditto. He had said, simplicity in dress was good economy and always good taste. No. Then something else,--that wouldn't wear, wouldn't tear, wouldn't lose, rust, break.