r he had scrambled up to fortune,
and now the time was come when he must define his new social position.

This is always an awkward business in town or country. An exclusive
alliance between two powers is often the same thing as a declaration of
war against a third. Rockland was soon split into a triumphant minority,
invited to Mrs. Sprowle's party, and a great majority, uninvited, of
which the fraction just on the border line between recognized "gentility"
and the level of the ungloved masses was in an active state of excitement
and indignation.

"Who is she, I should like to know?" said Mrs. Saymore, the tailor's
wife. "There was plenty of folks in Rockland as good as ever Sally
Jordan was, if she had managed to pick up a merchant. Other folks could
have married merchants, if their families was n't as wealthy as them old
skinflints that willed her their money," etc., etc. Mrs. Saymore
expressed the feeling of many beside herself. She had, however, a
special right to be proud of the name she bore. Her husband was own
cousin to the Saymores of Freestone Avenue (who write the name Seymour,
and claim to be of the Duke of Somerset's family, showing a clear descent
from the Protector to Edward Seymour, (1630,)--then a jump that would
break a herald's neck to one Seth Saymore,(1783,)--from whom to the head
of the present family the line is clear again). Mrs. Saymore, the
tailor's wife, was not invited, because her husband mended clothes. If
he had confined himself strictly to making them, it would have put a
different face upon the matter.

The landlord of the Mountain House and his lady were invited to Mrs.
Sprowle's party. Not so the landlord of Pollard's Tahvern and his lady.
Whereupon the latter vowed that they would have a party at their house
too, and made arrangements for a dance of twenty or thirty couples, to be
followed by an entertainment. Tickets to this "Social Ball" were soon
circulated, and, being accessible to all at a moderate price, admission
to the "Elegant Supper" included, this second festival promised to be as
merry, if not as select, as the great party.

Wednesday came. Such doings had never been heard of in Rockland as went
on that day at the "villa." The carpet had been taken up in the long
room, so that the young folks might have a dance. Miss Matilda's piano
had been moved in, and two fiddlers and a clarionet-player engaged to
make music. All kinds of lamps had been put in requis