le life. In the
circle of high-bred, polished, literary, and talented persons whom Madam
Gryseworth drew about her, and into which Dr. Jeremy's party were
admitted, Gertrude found much that was congenial to her cultivated
taste, and she soon was appreciated as she deserved. Madam Gryseworth
was a lady of the old school--one who had all her life been accustomed
to the best society, and who continued, in spite of her advanced years,
to enjoy and to adorn it. For the first day or two Mrs. Jeremy stood
much in awe of her, and could not feel quite at ease in her presence;
but this feeling wore off, and the stout little doctor's lady soon
became confiding and chatty towards the august dame.

One evening, when the Jeremys had been a week at Saratoga, as Emily and
Gertrude were leaving the tea-table, they were joined by Netta
Gryseworth, who, linking her arm in Gertrude's, exclaimed, in her usual
gay manner, "Gertrude, I shall quarrel with you soon!"

"Indeed!" said Gertrude; "on what grounds?"

"Jealousy."

Gertrude blushed slightly.

"Oh, you needn't turn so red; it is not on account of any grey-headed
gentleman staring at you all dinner-time from the other end of the
table. No; I'm indifferent on that score. Ellen and you may disagree
about Mr. Phillips' attentions, but I'm jealous of those of another
person."

"I hope Gertrude isn't interfering with your happiness in any way," said
Emily, smiling.

"She is, though," replied Netta. "My happiness, my pride, my comfort;
she is undermining them all. She would not dare to so conduct herself,
Miss Graham, if you could see her behaviour."

"Tell me all about it," said Emily, coaxingly, "and I will promise to
interest myself for you."

"I doubt that," answered Netta; "I am not sure but you are a coadjutor
with her. However, I will state my grievance. Do you not see how
entirely she engrosses the attention of an important personage? Are you
not aware that Peter has ceased to have eyes for anyone else? For my own
part, I can get nothing to eat or drink until Miss Flint is served, and
I'm determined to ask papa to change our seats at the table. It isn't
that I care about my food; but I feel insulted--my pride is essentially
wounded. A few days ago I was a great favourite with Peter, and all my
pet dishes were sure to be placed in front of me; but now the tune is
changed, and this very evening I saw him pass Gertrude the blackberries,
which the creature knows I delight in,