ceal the letter from her friend. Without being able to utter a word she handed it to her.
“See, see”—observed at last Mrs. Nocar. Her face expressed confusion and surprise. “And what are you going to do?”
“I don't know, Louisa.”
“You have time enough to think. Of course it is possible—but, you know how men are— But— And yet why should he not be in love with you? I'll make some inquiries about him.”
Miss Mary was silent.
“Listen! Cibulka is a fine looking fellow! His eyes are like coals, his beard, too, and his teeth—I say his teeth are like pure sugar. He is really very good looking.”
Mrs. Nocar bent over and embraced her speechless friend. Miss Mary was the color of purple. Just one week later on returning from church, Miss Mary found another letter. She read it with increasing astonishment.
Do not be angry that I make bold to write to you. The reason of it is that I wish to marry, I am in need of a housekeeper and I have no acquaintances. My business does not permit me to devote my time to pleasure. As I look about, it always seems to me that you are a dear, good young lady. Since I am a good man, it
