retreat.
Once more she tried the curtain, giving it a forcible twitch, and this
time it came down--but the whole fixture came with it, and, after
striking her on the head, slid out of the window into the street, much
to the amusement of the spectators opposite.

Here was a dilemma--and what would her aunt say? She had to give up all
hope of excluding the gaze of her impudent neighbors. Poor damsel! She
would have asked assistance of some of the family, but they had all been
asleep some time, and she disliked to disturb them. Finally, she decided
to extinguish her light and undress in bed--a difficult undertaking,
which was, however, accomplished, with the loss of sundry strings and
buttons; and Ann Harriet laid her wearied head on the pillow, and
thought her troubles for that day were over. But Sleep forsakes the
wretched, and her eyes would not 'stay shut.' While coaxing them to
'stay down,' she was startled by a flash of light on the wall and an
explosion, then another, and then a third, accompanied by a shower of
gravelly substance in her face and eyes. Miss Hobbs, as we have seen,
was

'A woman naturally born to fears,'

and this sudden and inexplicable exhibition of fireworks in her chamber
almost burst the strings of her night cap, by causing her curly black
hair to stand on end.

The mischievous young men opposite had procured a _sarbacane_--vulgarly
known as a 'bean-blower,'--and were shooting torpedoes into Ann
Harriet's chamber. Not daring to rise to shut the window, she was wholly
at their mercy; but fortunately their stock of ammunition was limited to
half a dozen pellets, and in a few minutes the bombardment ceased.

About midnight Ann Harriet fell into a deep slumber, and when she awoke
the broad sunshine was illuminating her chamber, while the rattling of
teams along the paved streets reminded her that she was in the great
metropolis of New England. She missed the green foliage and healthy
perfume and bird songs of her pleasant country home: all she could see
was a combination of bricks, slate, and stone; and not a green thing was
visible in the street, save a few Irish servants, who were washing off
the doorsteps and sidewalks. In the middle of the cobble stones lay the
curtain which had fallen during the scene of the previous evening, muddy
and torn, its sticks broken by the heavy wagons which had passed over
it. A glance at the hostile boarding-house assured her that all was
quiet there; so,