ome _too late_ the day of
Mary's visit, but the next morning she told him all about both the
first and the second surprise she had had--not, however, with much
success in interesting the lordly youth.

"And then," she went on, "what do you think we were doing all the
afternoon, Tom?"

"How should I know?" said Tom, indifferently.

"We were working hard at a dress--a dress for a fancy-ball!"

"A fancy-ball, Letty? What do you mean? You going to a fancy-ball!"

"Me!" cried Letty, with merry laugh; "no, not quite me. Who do you
think it was for?"

"How should I know?" said Tom again, but not quite so indifferently; he
was prepared to be annoyed.

"For Mrs. Redmain!" said Letty, triumphantly, clapping her hands with
delight at what she thought the fun of the thing, for was not Mrs.
Redmain Tom's friend?--then stooping a little--it was an unconscious,
pretty trick she had--and holding them out, palm pressed to palm, with
the fingers toward his face.

"Letty," said Tom, frowning--and the frown deepened and deepened; for
had he not from the first, if in nothing else, taken trouble to
instruct her in what became the wife of Thomas Helmer, Esq.?--"Letty,
this won't do!"

Letty was frightened, but tried to think he was only pretending to be
displeased.

"Ah! don't frighten me, Tom," she said, with her merry hands now
changed to pleading ones, though their position and attitude remained
the same.

But he caught them by the wrists in both of his, and held them tight.

"Letty," he said once more, and with increased severity, "this won't
do. I tell you, it won't do."

"What won't do, Tom?" she returned, growing white. "There's no harm
done."

"Yes, there is," said Tom, with solemnity; "there _is_ harm done, when
_my_ wife goes and does like that. What would people say of _me,_ if
they were to come to know--God forbid they should!--that your husband
was talking all the evening to ladies at whose dresses his wife had
been working all the afternoon!--You don't know what you are doing,
Letty. What do you suppose the ladies would think if they were to hear
of it?"

Poor, foolish Tom, ignorant in his folly, did not know how little those
grand ladies would have cared if his wife had been a char-woman: the
eyes of such are not discerning of fine social distinctions in women
who are not of their set, neither are the family relations of the
bohemians they invite of the smallest consequence to them.

"But, Tom," pleaded h