ollowing close upon the heels of a party for a share of
the good things left. Accordingly, she opened her sideboard, and
produced a choice variety of her store.

"I suppose it is too late to get some of the ice cream?" said Miss
Debby, losing no time in attacking what was set before her; "you have
used it, or let the ice run out, I dare say?--though, now that I think
of it, I made up my mind that I would not care to have any of it, for
old Mrs. Longacre told me that what she got was bitter, from being
made partly of milk, she supposed, that had been burnt in boiling."

This was more than Mrs. Smith could stand. "It is totally erroneous!"
she exclaimed; "I used none but the purest cream, and that without
boiling; I don't know how the old lady could have made such a mistake,
unless it was that she got some of the almond, which, perhaps, had too
much of the bitter-almond flavor for her taste."

"Perhaps so; and she said that she did not venture to taste the
Charlotte-Russe, fearing it might turn out to be nothing but
sponge-cake and custard, without jelly or whipped cream. But if it was
all like this, nobody could complain of it;" and, absorbed in the
gratification of her palate, Miss Debby gave her auditor a few minutes
respite.

"Your party, on the whole, made something of a talk, Mrs. Smith," she
resumed.

Mrs. Smith bowed and smiled, taking the observation for a compliment.

"I was out making calls the day the invitations went round. You know
making calls is a business with me, when I undertake it. I commence
directly after breakfast, and keep on till night, eating my dinner
wherever I suppose dinner chances to be ready. Well, the first I heard
of your intentions was from Mrs. Harvey, who said she wondered you
could think yourself under obligations to give a party to Julia
Goldsborough, though, to be sure, like some other of your devices, she
supposed that was only a _ruse_; and she was surprised that the
Goldsboroughs were willing to be cat's paws to help you along in
'society.'"

Mrs. Smith's face grew as red as the _bon bon_ paper she was nervously
twisting.

"That was to Mrs. Nicolas and me," pursued Miss Debby; "and Mrs.
Nicolas wondered how upon earth the Pelby Smiths could afford to give
a party at all. She concluded that you would have to live on bacon and
potatoes for the remainder of the season, to retrieve the cost, and
would have to turn that changeable silk of yours the third time."

"Oh, I don