ghters
of Mr. Tippet, the haberdasher; then came the hatter's daughter, Miss
Beaver. The grades appeared to be as follows: manufactures held the
first rank; then dry goods, as the tea-dealers, grocers, etc.; the third
class consisted of the daughters of the substantial butchers and
pastrycooks. The squabbles between the young ladies about rank and
precedence were continual: what then must have been the position of poor
little Virginia, whose mother was a clear-starcher and getter-up of fine
linen? At first they called her the washerwoman's daughter, and would
not associate with her, which made her very uncomfortable; and she used
to tell me on the Sundays when we walked out how she had been treated
during the week. But it was all for her advantage, and tended to correct
the false pride and upstart ideas which in time must have been
engendered by my mother's folly. Neither, after a few weeks, was my
sister unhappy. She was too meek in disposition to reply, so that she
disarmed those who would assail her; and being, as she was, of the
lowest rank in the school, there could be no contest with the others as
to precedence. Her mildness, humility, and sweetness of temper soon won
upon both the schoolmistress and the scholars; eventually the Misses
Tippet took Virginia under their protection, and this magnanimity on
their part silenced all opposition. My mother had desired my sister to
take lessons in dancing. At first the girls would not stand up with her;
but, when the elder Miss Tippet took her as a partner, my sister became
quite the fashion, and, what was better, a great favorite and pet with
everybody; and they all patronized her as "little Virginia."

I very soon paid off my debt to old Nanny, without having to apply to
Peter Anderson. I had assistance (but without asking for it) as follows:
The second Sunday after I had obtained my clothes I called, with
Virginia, upon the widow of St. Felix. She was in the back parlor, and
the doctor, as usual, sitting with her. She received us very kindly,
spoke a deal to Virginia, and told me that I looked very handsome for
"Poor Jack."

"You'll be quite the fashion," continued she; "and I presume, like most
fashionable gentlemen, your clothes are not paid for."

I replied, laughing, that they were not; but that they should be, if I
lived and could work.

"I've heard the whole story from old Ben," replied she. "Come in
to-morrow, Jack; I want to speak with you."

I did so in t