essed motherly anxiety showed that the subject was one of
importance. Did she mean an invitation to the great feast which is to
be held when they sit down to celebrate the marriage supper of the
Lamb, and which this holy Sabbath day was given to help one prepare
for? No, on second thought it could not have been that; for, after
listening to the morning sermon no thought of anxiety could have
mingled with that question. Assuredly Jennie was invited--nay,
_urged, entreated_; the only point of Anxiety could have
been--_would_ she accept? But it was another place that filled the
minds of both mother and daughter.

"Indeed I did." There was glee in Miss Jennie's voice. "I thought I
wasn't going to. She went right by me and asked people right and
left, never once looking at me. But she came away back after she had
gone into the hall, and came over to my seat and whispered that she
had been looking for me all the way out, but had missed me. She said
I must be sure to come, for she depended on us young people to help
make the affair less ceremonious. Don't you think, Emma wasn't
invited at all, and I don't believe she will be; almost everyone has
been now. Emma was so sure of her invitation, because she was such a
friend of Lu Jamison's. She thought she would get cards to the
wedding, you know; and when they didn't come she felt sure of the
reception. She has been holding her head wonderfully high all the
week about it, and now she is left out and I am in. Mother, isn't
that rich?"

Mrs. Brower plumped her chickens into the oven, and wiped the flour
from her cheek and sighed.

"There will be no end of fuss in getting you ready, and expense too.
What are you going to wear, anyway?"

"Mother," said Jennie, impressively, turning away from her squash to
get a view of her mother's face, "I ought to have a new dress for
this party. I haven't anything fit to be seen. It is months since I
have had a new one; and everybody is sick of my old blue dress; I'm
sure I am."

"It is entirely out of the question," Mrs. Brower said, irritably,
"and you know it is. I _wonder_ at your even thinking of such a
thing, and we so many bills to pay; and there's that pew-rent hasn't
been paid in so long that I'm ashamed to go to church."

"I wish the pew-rent was in Jericho, and the pew, too!" was Miss
Jennie's spirited answer. "I should think churches ought to be free,
if nothing else is. It is a great religion, selling pews so high that
poor p