want to
look as well as possible; and then, too, I like to see the country
folks open their mouths, and stare at city fashions.'

"What makes you think George will come to Glenwood?" asked Jenny, as
she packed away dresses her sister would never wear.

"I know, and that's enough," answered Rose; "and now, before you
forget it, put in my leghorn flat, for if I stay long, I shall want
it; and see how nicely you can fold the dress I wore at Mrs. Russell's
party!"

"Why, Rose, what can you possibly want of that?" asked Jenny, and Rose
replied, "Oh, I want to show it to grandma, just to hear her groan
over our extravagance, and predict that we'll yet come to ruin!"

Jenny thought that if Rose could have seen her father that morning,
when the bill for the dress and its costly trimmings was presented,
she would have wished it removed for ever from her sight. Early in the
winter Mr. Lincoln had seen that all such matters were settled, and of
this bill, more recently made, he knew nothing.

"I can't pay it now," said he promptly to the boy who brought it.
"Tell Mr. Holton I will see him in a day or two."

The boy took the paper with an insolent grin, for he had heard the
fast circulating rumor, "that one of the _big bugs_ was about to smash
up;" and now, eager to confirm the report, he ran swiftly back to his
employer, who muttered, "Just as I expected. I'll draw on him for what
I lent him, and that'll tell the story. My daughters can't afford to
wear such things, and I'm not going to furnish money for his."

Of all this Rose did not dream, for in her estimation there was no end
to her father's wealth, and the possibility of his failing had never
entered her mind. Henry indeed had once hinted it to her on the
occasion of her asking him "how he could fancy Ella Campbell enough to
marry her."

"I'm not marrying _her_, but her _money_" was his prompt answer; "and
I assure you, young lady, we are more in need of that article than you
imagine."

Rose paid no attention to this speech, and when she found that her
favorite Sarah was not to accompany her, she almost wept herself into
convulsions, declaring that her father, to whom the mother imputed the
blame, was cruel and hard-hearted, and that if it was Jenny instead of
herself who was sick, she guessed "she'd have forty waiting-maids if
she wanted them."

"I should like to know who is to take care of me?" said she. "Jenny
isn't going, and grandma would think it an unpar