Two parties came off the following week, to both of which Hiram was invited through the influence of the Bennetts. Miss Thorne was of course present. Hiram, now perfectly at his ease, and fashionably attired, made no insignificant display. He was introduced to a great many young ladies, and saluting two or three of the most attractive, he paid at different stages of the evening assiduous court to them. His waltzing was really superb [O Hiram, what a change!], and not a few inquired, 'Who is he?' Mrs. Bennett was really proud to answer, 'A cousin of ours. A very fine young man, indeed--very rich.' Miss Thorne did not ask any questions--not she; but she quickly recognized in the waltzer the occupant of the pew who had already attracted her notice. She waited complacently for the moment when Hiram should be led up to her for presentation, and she had already decided just how she should receive him. She was resolved to ruffle his complacency, and thus punish him for not paying his first tribute to her charms; then, so she settled it, she would relax, and permit him to waltz with her. When the evening passed, and the fashionable young man had made no demonstration, she was amazed. Such a thing had never happened before. To think he should not ask _her_, while he devoted half the evening to Miss Innis, who waltzed shockingly (every one knew that), and who had no money either! She went home in a very uncomfortable state of mind. The following Wednesday there was a repetition of this very scene. The party was even more brilliant than the last, Miss Thorne more exquisitely dressed, but Hiram kept aloof. Miss Thorne had never been slighted before--never. This evening she was tempted to waive her pride, and inquire of her dear friend Mrs. Bennett, with whom she saw Hiram conversing--but the thought was too humiliating, and she forbore. How she hated the wretch!--that is, as women hate, and as men like to be hated. What should she do? Could she endure to attend another party, and be so treated? Why, the creature never even looked toward her! What right had he to dress so fashionably and to waltz with such ease, and in fact appear so well every way? To occupy quite by himself the very best pew in St. Jude's, directly in front of her! What audacity! Then his provoking _nonchalance_. Oh, what was she to do? She should go crazy. Not quite that. She would first inquire of Mr. Myrtle, in a very careless manner. So she ran in that same morning on the accomplished clergyman, and was speedily in a full gallop of conversation. 'By the way,' she exclaimed, at length, as if a new thought had suddenly struck her, 'pray, tell me, who is my new neighbor? I intended asking the last time I saw you, but forgot it.' The Rev. Charles Myrtle looked completely mystified, and asked with his eyes, plainly as eyes could ask, 'Pray, what do you mean?' 'I see you don't take. I mean the new occupant of the Winslows' pew; some relation, I suppose.'