ia Selden? You were
formerly almost inseparable. I hope there has been no quarrel between
you.

_Juliet._ None at all. But--somehow--I am tired of Cecilia Selden. She
is certainly a very dull companion.

_Edward._ Dull! You once thought her very amusing. For my part, _I_
always found her so. She has read a great deal, is highly accomplished,
and as she travels every summer with her parents, she has had
opportunities of seeing a variety of interesting places and people. And
above all, she has an excellent natural understanding.

_Juliet._ But she is always so sensible and so correct, and every thing
that she says and does is so very proper.

_Edward._ So much the better. You will improve by being intimate with
her.

_Juliet._ I never shall be intimate again with Cecilia Selden. She is
too particular, too fastidious. She does not like Madeline Malcolm.

_Edward._ And who is Madeline Malcolm? I never heard of her before.

_Juliet._ Her father is our next door neighbour. You know we did not
live in this house when you were last in Philadelphia. The very day we
moved, Madeline Malcolm came in to see us, in the midst of all our
bustle and confusion, and stayed the whole afternoon. She said she had
long been desirous of becoming acquainted with me, was delighted that
we were now near neighbours, and therefore could not forbear running in
to commence the intimacy immediately.

_Edward._ But "in the midst of all your bustle and confusion," it must
have been very in convenient to receive a visitor, and to entertain her
the whole afternoon.

_Juliet._ Why,--we were a little disconcerted at first, but she begged
of us not to consider her a stranger. She was just as sociable as if she
had known us for seven years; and she was so queer, and there was so
much fun in every thing she said and did, that she kept me laughing all
the time.

_Edward._ I should like to see this prodigy of fun.

_Juliet._ No doubt you will soon have that pleasure; for she runs in and
out, the back way, ten times a-day.

Juliet had scarcely spoken when they heard a voice in the entry, singing
"I'd be a butterfly," and Madeline Malcolm, a tall, black-eyed,
red-cheeked girl, with long ringlets of dark hair, came flying into the
parlour, exclaiming, "What, still by fire-light--I shall have to pull
your Peter's ears myself, if he does not mind his business and light the
astral lamp sooner. O! here he comes. Now, Peter, proceed; and take
yourself of