Belcher could only
say that it was all very fine, but Mr. Belcher, finding himself an
object of envy, took great pride in showing his visitors about the
house.

Mrs. Talbot, who in some way had ascertained that Mrs. Dillingham had
superintended the arrangement of the house, said, in an aside to Mrs.
Belcher: "It must have been a little lonely to come here and find no one
to receive you--no friend, I mean."

"Mrs. Dillingham was here," remarked Mrs. Belcher, quietly.

"But she was no friend of yours."

"No; Mr. Belcher had met her."

"How strange! How very strange!"

"Do you know her well?"

"I'm afraid I do; but now, really, I hope you won't permit yourself to
be prejudiced against her. I suppose she means well, but she certainly
does the most unheard-of things. She's a restless creature--not quite
right, you know, but she has been immensely flattered. She's an old
friend of mine, and I don't join the hue and cry against her at all, but
she does such imprudent things! What did she say to you?"

Mrs. Belcher detected the spice of pique and jealousy in this charitable
speech, and said very little in response--nothing that a mischief-maker
could torture into an offense.

Having worked her private pump until the well whose waters she sought
refused to give up its treasures, Mrs. Talbot declared she would no
longer embarrass the new house-keeping by her presence. She had only
called to bid Mrs. Belcher welcome, and to assure her that if she had no
friends in the city, there were hundreds of hospitable hearts that were
ready to greet her. Then she and her husband went out, waved their
adieus from their snug little coupe, and drove away.

The call had diverted Mr. Belcher from his somber thoughts, and he
summoned his carriage, and drove down town, where he spent his day in
securing the revolution in his domestic service, already alluded to, in
talking business with his factor, and in making acquaintances on
'Change.

"I'm going to be in the middle of this thing, one of those days," said
he to Talbot as they strolled back to the counting-room of the latter,
after a long walk among the brokers and bankers of Wall street. "If
anybody supposes that I've come here to lie still, they don't know me.
They'll wake up some fine morning and find a new hand at the bellows."

Twilight found him at home again, where he had the supreme pleasure of
turning his very independent servants out of his house into the street,
and ins