oud, after a certain fashion of her own; slightly sentimental,
which is rather a failing than a fault; but her worst trait was a
brooding, fault-seeing, persevering tact at making herself miserable,
scarce ever equalled. The smallest bit of vantage-ground was enough for
a start, and on that foundation Lizzy took but a few hours of suspicion
and imagination to build up a whole Castle Doubting. The cause she had
to-day was even greater than was necessary; it was peculiar that
her father should be so reserved; it was more strange that he so
perseveringly withheld John's letter; and certainly he watched Lizzy at
her work with unusually tender eyes, that sometimes filled with a sort
of mist. All these things heaped up evidence for the poor girl; she
brooded over each separate item all night, and added to the sum Polly
Mariner's gossip, and looked forward to the day when everybody in
Greenfield should say, "Lizzy Griswold's had a disapp'intment of John
Boynton!" Poor, dear, Lizzy! as if that were an unheard-of pang! as if
nine-tenths of her accusers were not "disapp'inted" themselves,--some
before, some after marriage,--some in themselves, some in their
children, some in their wretched, dreary lives! But there was only one
John and only one heart-break present to her vision.

Polly Mariner came to breakfast next day, and pervaded the kitchen
like a daily paper. Horrible murders, barn-burnings, failures, deaths,
births, marriages, separations, lawsuits, slanders, and petty larcenies
outran each other in her glib speech, and her fingers flew as fast on
Sam's blue jacket as her tongue clappered above it.

Lizzy's pride kept her up before the old woman; she was in and out and
everywhere, a pretty spot of crimson on either fair cheek, her eyes as
sparkling and her step as light as any belle's in a ballroom, and her
whole manner so gay and charming that Polly inwardly pronounced John
Boynton a mighty fool, if he dodged such a pretty girl as that, and one
with "means."

But night came, and Polly went. Lizzy went to bed with a bad
headache,--convenient synonyme for aches of soul or body that one does
not care to christen! Sleep she certainly did that night, for she
dreamed John was married to a rich Boston girl with red hair and a
yellow flannel dress, and that Polly Mariner was bridesmaid in the
peculiar costume of a blue roundabout and pantaloons! But sleep with
such dreams was scarcely a restorer; and Wednesday morning, when Mrs