against her. Her first
thought was to retaliate. But reflection brought other and better
feelings into play. Instead of exposing what had been done, she
destroyed the bonnet received from New York, and made an effort to
keep what had occurred a secret. But Kitty's appearance at church in
such an elegant affair, naturally created some talk. One surmise
after another was started, and, at last, from hints dropped by the
milliner, and admissions almost extorted from Mrs. Claudine, the
truth came out so fully, that all understood it; nor was Mrs.
Ballman long left in ignorance on this head.

As to the fashion, Mrs. Claudine's bonnet became the rage; though,
as might be supposed, Mrs. Ballman refused to adopt it.

Who will be the successful rival next season, I am unable to
predict. But it is believed that Mrs. Claudine intends giving Mrs.
Ballman an advance of two weeks, and then coming in with a different
style, and beating her in spite of the advantage.

CHAPTER XXVII.

MY WASHERWOMAN.

WE were sitting at tea one evening--Mr. Smith, my sister and her
husband, Mr. John Jones, and myself. In the midst of a pleasant
conversation, Bridget looked into the dining-room.

"What is wanted?" said I.

"Mary Green is down stairs."

"Oh! the washerwoman."

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, what does she want?"

I knew what she wanted well enough. She had come for two dollars
that I owed her. I felt annoyed. "Why?" the reader asks.
"Obligations of this kind should always be met promptly and
cheerfully."

True; and I am of those who never grudge the humble poor the reward
of their labor. But, it so happened that I had received a pretty
liberal supply of money from my husband on this very day, all of
which I had spent in shopping. Some of my purchases could not be
classed exactly under the head, "Articles of Domestic Economy," and
I was, already, in rather a repentant mood--the warmth of admiration
at the sight of sundry ornamental trifles having subsided almost as
soon as I found myself their owner. To my question, Bridget very
promptly answered,

"She's come for her money."

When a woman feels annoyed, she is rarely able to repress its
exhibition. Men are cooler, and have a quicker self control. They
make better hypocrites.

"She's very prompt," I remarked, a little fretfully, as I took out
my porte-monnaie. Now I did not possess twenty cents, and I knew it;
still, I fingered among its compartments as if in search of