looked forward to it with the wildest impatience, and the most extravagant anticipations of delight.
"Miss Grey," said she, one evening, a month before the all important day, as I was perusing a long and extremely interesting letter of my sister's which I had just glanced at, in the morning, to see that it contained no very bad news, and kept till now, unable before to find a quiet moment for reading it. "Miss Grey, do put away that dull, stupid letter, and listen to me! I'm sure my talk must be far more amusing than that."
She seated herself on the low stool at my feet; and I, suppressing a sigh of vexation, began to fold up the epistle.
"You should tell the good people at home not to bore you with such long letters," said she; "and above all, do bid them write on proper note-paper, and not on those great vulgar sheets! You should see the charming little lady-like notes mamma writes to her friends."
"The good people at home," replied I, "know very well that the longer their letters are, the better I like them. I should be very sorry to receive a charming little lady-like note
