"I am sure you would not have me flatter Mr. Gusher with a falsehood, mother," resumed Mattie. "I tried to impress him with the fact that I was not good enough for so accomplished a gentleman; but he insisted that I was, adding that he cared nothing for riches or station. As for loving him, I told him plainly I didn't think I ever could, though there was no knowing what changes time might work in my feelings. I gave him my hand, nevertheless, and told him if he took me it must be with the consequences." Mr. Napoleon Bowles announced visitors, and this put an end to the conversation. The reader must know that this was not a voluntary yielding on the part of Mattie to the wishes of her mother. She only adopted this course as part of a plan by which she hoped to gain time, during which Tite might return, and thus afford her the means of averting a dilemma into which her mother was forcing her. CHAPTER XXX. A TERRIBLE CALAMITY OVERTAKES THE FAMILY. It was not to be expected that so pushing a woman as Mrs. Chapman would be turned from the object she had set her heart on by the interposition of ordinary obstacles. She had taken good care to have the engagement pretty well trumpeted over Bowling Green; and in less than three months from the time what is described in the foregoing chapter occurred, the lady had a day fixed for the wedding ceremony, which, she declared should be on such a scale of magnificence as would astonish all New York, to say nothing of West Bowling Green. And now she was distracting her wits, and the wits of her friends, over what she called the preliminaries extraordinary. Weddings, the lady said, must be illuminated according to the position of the family. And to that end an additional amount of elegant furniture was got for the house, a new carriage was ordered, and Mr. Napoleon Bowles was to appear in a new livery, with top boots. Nor was the family finery to be neglected, for at least a dozen dressmakers had been employed for a month plying their needles. In short, this great coming event in the history of the Chapman family had afforded Bowling Green enough to talk about for a month. The lady's meek looking little husband pleaded in vain for economy; suggested in vain his almost empty pocket. "A quiet family wedding, my dear, with a few honest-hearted friends invited, will be so much better, you know;" he would say, submissively. "You know what nice quiet weddings we used to have at Dogtown, and how cheap they were." "Don't mention Dogtown, my dear; pray don't, my darling," the lady would reply, a curl of contempt on her lips. "We live in New York, now. I wish we had never known Dogtown--only common people marry in that way in New York. Never bring Dogtown into the house again, my darling." "Have it all your own way, my dear," Chapman would conclude, knowing there was nothing for him to do but surrender submissively.