"I have been thinking, too," said Mary, "and it strikes me that Anna and I might do something in the way of ornamental needlework. Both of us, you know, are fond of it." "Do you think that we can sell it, after it is done?" Anna asked, with a lively interest in her tone. "I certainly do. We see plenty of such work in the shops; and they must buy it, of course." "Let us try, then, Mary," her sister said with animation. A week spent in untiring industry, produced two elegantly wrought capes, equal to the finest French embroidery. "And, now, where shall we sell them?" Anna inquired, in a tone of concern. "Mrs.--would, no doubt, buy them; but I, for one, cannot bear the thought of going there." "Nor I. But, driven by necessity, I believe that I could brave to go there, or anywhere else, even though I have not been in Chestnut-street for nearly two years." "Will you go, then, Mary?" Anna asked, in an earnest, appealing tone. "Yes, Anna, as you seem so shrinkingly reluctant, I will go." And forthwith Mary prepared herself; and rolling up the two elegant capes, proceeded with them to the store of Mrs.--, in Chestnut-street. It was crowded with customers when she entered, and so she shrunk away to the back part of the store, until Mrs.--should be more at leisure, and she could bargain with her without attracting attention. She had stood there only a few moments,--when her ear caught the sound of a familiar voice--that of Mary Williams, one of her former most intimate associates. Her first impulse was to spring forward, but a remembrance of her changed condition instantly recurring to her, she turned more away from the light, so as to effectually conceal herself from the young lady's observation. This she was enabled to do, although Mary Williams came once or twice so near as to brush her garments. How oppressively did her heart beat, at such moments! Old thoughts and old feelings came rushing back upon her, and in the contrast they occasioned between the past and the present, she was almost overwhelmed with despondency. Customer after customer came in, as one and another retired, many of whose faces were familiar to Mary as old friends and acquaintances. At last, however, after waiting nearly two hours, she made out to get an interview with Mrs.--. "Well, Miss, what do you want?" asked that personage, as Mary came up before her where she still stood at the counter, for she had observed her waiting in the store for some time. Mrs.--either did not remember, or cared not to remember, her old customer, who had spent, with her sisters, many hundreds of dollars in her store, in times past. "I have a couple of fine wrought capes that I should like to sell," Mary said, in a timid, hesitating voice, unrolling, at the same time, the articles she named. "Are they French?" asked Mrs.--, without pausing in her employment of rolling up some goods, to take and examine the articles proffered her. "No, ma'am; they are some of my own and sister's work."