pron--a present from some cousin out West--I went to see
Carrie; and truly, the music she drew from that old piano charmed me
more than the finest performances since have done. Carrie and her
piano were now the theme of every tongue, and many wondered how
Captain Howard could afford to pay for three years' music lessons; but
this was a mystery yet to be solved.

CHAPTER III.

MONSIEUR PENOYER.

When Carrie had been at home about three months all Rice Corner one
day flew to the doors and windows to look at a stranger, a gentleman
with fierce mustaches, who seemed not at all certain of his latitude,
and evidently wanted to know where he was going. At least, if _he_
didn't, they who watched him did.

Grandma, whose longevity had not impaired her guessing faculties,
first suggested that "most likely it was Caroline Howard's beau." This
was altogether too probable to be doubted, and as grandmother had long
contemplated a visit to Aunt Eunice, she now determined to go that
very afternoon, as she "could judge for herself what kind of a match
Car'line had made." Mother tried to dissuade her from going that day,
but the old lady was incorrigible, and directly after dinner, dressed
in her bombazine, black silk apron, work bag, knitting and all she
departed for Captain Howard's.

They wouldn't confess it, but I knew well enough that Juliet and Anna
were impatient for her return, and when the shadows of twilight began
to fall I was twice sent into the road to see if she was coming. The
last time I was successful, and in a few moments grandmother was among
us; but whatever she knew she kept to herself until the lamps were
lighted in the sitting-room, and she, in her stuffed rocking-chair,
was toeing off the stocking only that morning commenced. Then, at a
hint from Anna, she cast toward Lizzie and me a rueful glance, saying:
"There are too many _pitchers_ here!" I knew then just as well as I
did five minutes after that Lizzie and I must go to bed. There was no
help for it, and we complied with a tolerably good grace. Lizzie
proposed that we should listen, but somehow I couldn't do that, and up
to this time I don't exactly know what grandmother told them.

The next day, however, I heard enough to know that his name was
Penoyer; that grandma didn't like him; that he had as much hair on his
face as on his head; that Aunt Eunice would oppose the match, and that
he would stay over Sunday. With this last I was delighted, fo