a letter
from Boston, containing the intelligence that Cousin Emma Rushton, who
had been an invalid for more than a year, was about to try the effect
of country life and country air.

This piece of news operated differently upon different members of our
family. Juliet exclaimed, "Good, good; Carrie Howard won't hold her
head quite so high now, for we shall have a city lady, too." Anna was
delighted, because she would thus have an opportunity of acquiring
city manners and city fashions. Sally said snappishly, "There's enough
to wait on now, without having a stuck-up city flirt, faintin' at the
sight of a worm, and screechin' if a fly comes toward her." Mother had
some misgivings on the subject. She was perfectly willing Emma should
come, but she doubted our ability to entertain her, knowing that the
change would be great from a fashionable city home to a country
farmhouse. Grandmother, who loved to talk of "my daughter in the
city," was pleased, and to console mother, said:

"Never you mind, Fanny, leave her to me; you find victuals and drink,
and I'll do the entertaining."

Among so many opinions it was hard for me to arrive at a conclusion.
On the whole, however, I was glad, until told that during Cousin
Emma's stay our garret gambols must be given up, and that I must not
laugh loud, or scarcely speak above a whisper, for she was sick, and
it would hurt her head. Then I wished Cousin Emma and Cousin Emma's
head would stay where they belonged.

The letter was received on Monday, but Emma would not come until
Thursday; so there was ample time for "fixing up." The parlor-chamber
was repapered, the carpet taken up and shaken, red and white curtains
hung at the windows, a fresh ball of Castile soap bought for the
washstand, and on Thursday morning our pretty flower beds were shorn
of their finest ornaments with which to make bouquets for the parlor
and parlor-chamber. Besides that, Sally had filled the pantry with
cakes, pies, gingerbread, and Dutch cheese, to the last of which I
fancied Emma's city taste would not take kindly. Then there was in the
cellar a barrel of fresh beer; so everything was done which could be
expected.

When I went home for my dinner that day I teased hard to be allowed to
stay out of school for one afternoon, but mother said "No," although
she suffered me to wear my pink gingham, with sundry injunctions "not
to burst the hooks and eyes all off before night." This, by the way,
was my besetti