“Oh, how delightful!” “Invite all their friends, and give them a little feast!” “Oh, grandmamma! they haven’t but one friend in the world beside us and the Savage family; and I’m afraid it would be unpleasant for them to meet.” “Still we must invite them. I will send a note to Mrs. Savage, and ask her to bring Horace.” “It might do; but I should not dare myself.” “Very likely. So leave that to me. Mistakes in an old woman are soon forgiven!” “Yes, I will leave it to you. Nobody ever did things so nicely.” “Now about this other woman, for I suppose it is a woman whom you speak of as their friend?” “Yes, of course, it is a woman. Such a strange creature, too, I’m sure you would be surprised to see her, knowing how good she is. When Anna and her grandmother were so very poor, she let the rent run on, month after month, never asking for it, but growing kinder and kinder every day. More than that, she seemed to find out by magic when they had nothing to eat in the house, and sent up money and a wholesome meal when they were almost crying with hunger.” “Georgiana,” said Mrs. Halstead, “that was a good woman. Invite her.” “But she is rough as a chestnut-bur.” “No matter.” “And used to scold them sometimes.” “No matter.” “She takes in slop-work.” “All the better.” “And fries her own dinner on the little stove in her room. I have heard it simmering twenty times.” “But when these good people needed it, she divided her dinner with them.” “Indeed, she did; though the agent was tormenting her about the rent all the time; and she is heavily in debt to him now.” “Georgiana, invite that woman—I admire her. I respect her, coarse or not, ugly or handsome, I respect her.” “And so do I, grandmamma. Only I thought it best to tell you. Besides, she dresses so, and has such coarse hair, that anybody but you might not see the good through it all—Mrs. Savage particularly.” “She would. Mrs. Savage is a noble woman.” “I am glad to hear you say that for Anna’s sake.” “And this person you speak of is a noble woman; such people always get together somehow.” “I hope so. Of course, if you say it.” “There now, dear, go to this woman and give our invitation. Here is money for the entertainment. Let it be perfect. She will help you, I dare say. If any thing is left, she must keep it, understand. Now good-morning. Go at once.” Georgie ran up stairs for her bonnet, and was soon in the old tenement-house talking with the landlady, whom she found hard at work, with a clothes-basket half full of unfinished work by her side, and a heap of sailor’s jackets piled up on the table close at hand. She had a well-worn press-board lying across her lap, and was pressing a stubborn seam upon it with a heavy flat-iron, upon which she leaned resolutely with one elbow, while she held the seam open with two fingers of her other hand. This was hot work, and the perspiration was pouring off her face as she worked.