CHAPTER VII.
LOVE-LETTERS.
Three weeks passed away, and nothing more was heard of Adeline's news, save that once, when Paulina, in Susan's presence, was bantered about the house of "Finley and Aikin," she tittered and bridled her head, and had all the airs of a spoiled girl who is rallied about her lover; and save that, when Paulina, after a month's mourning, doffed her crape bonnet and veil, and put on a pink hat with artificial flowers, the premature transition was imputed to an approaching wedding, and not to the obvious and perfectly sufficient cause—the pretty girl's extravagant love of dress.
At last Uncle Phil brought home that rare blessing to our simple friends, a letter, from the post-office.
"Here's something for you, gals," said he, "as scarce as gold now-a-days—a letter from Harry."
"Oh, better than gold!" said Charlotte, holding out her hand.
"No, no, it's Susy's this time; why don't you jump, Susy?"
Susan moved slowly, and took it with a trembling hand. Her fears, she thought, now were to become certainty.
"What are you afraid of, child?" continued her father; "there can't be any bad news in it, 'cause
