e Foxes and the Coxes that were here
yesterday?--Has she, Miss Flint?"

"Not a word about them," said Gertrude.

"Nor about the fright we had on board the steamboat?"

"No."

"Nor about Mr. Phillips being here?"

"Oh, yes, she told us that."

"Ah, she did!" exclaimed Netta, with an arch look which called up her
sister's blushes. "And did she tell you how he occupied this room, and
how we heard him through the thin partition pacing up and down all
night, and how it kept me from sleeping, and gave me a terrible headache
all the next day?"

"No, she did not tell me that," said Gertrude.

"You don't either of you walk all night, do you?" asked Netta.

"Not often."

"Oh, how thankful we ought to be to have you for neighbours!" replied
Netta. "If that horrible man had stayed here and kept up that measured
tread, there would have been a suicide either in this room or ours
before many nights."

"Do you think he was ill?" asked Gertrude.

"No, indeed," said Ellen; "it was nothing very remarkable--not for him,
at least--all his habits are peculiar; but it kept Netta awake an hour
or two, and made her fidgety."

"An hour or two, Ellen!" cried Netta. "It was the whole night."

"My dear sister," said Ellen, "you don't know what a whole night is."

A little sisterly discussion might have ensued about the length of Mr.
Phillips' walk and Netta's consequent wakefulness, but, fortunately, the
gong sounded for tea.

Saratoga is a queer place. One sees congregated there, at the height of
the season, delegates from every part of the world. Fashion's ladder is
transplanted thither, and all its rounds are filled. Beauty, wealth,
pride, and folly are well represented; also wit, genius, and learning.
Idleness reigns supreme, and no one, not even the most active and
industrious citizens of our working land, dares, in this her legitimate
province, to dispute her temporary sway. Every rank of society, every
profession, and almost every trade, meet each other on an easy and
friendly footing. The acknowledged belle, the bearer of an aristocratic
name, the owner of a well-filled purse, the renowned scholar, artist, or
poet, have all a conspicuous sphere to shine in.

It was a new experience to Gertrude, and although in the Congress Hall
she saw only the reflection of Saratoga gaiety, and heard only the echo
of its distant hum, there was enough of novelty and excitement to
entertain and surprise one who was a novice in fashionab