hole thing. Could He not
carry all these cares for me? Did He not know what ailed Hatty, and how
to deliver Angus, and all about it? I knelt down there and then (I
always write in my own chamber), and asked Him to send Hatty to me, and
better still, to bring her to Him; and to show me whether I had better
speak to my Uncle Charles, or try to get things out of Amelia. As to
Charlotte, I would not ask her about anything which I did not care to
tell the town crier.

The next morning--(there, my dates are getting all wrong again! It is
no use trying to keep them straight)--as my Uncle Charles was putting on
his gloves to go out, he said,--

"Well, Cary, shall I bring you a fairing of any sort?"

"Uncle Charles," I said, leaping to a decision at once, "do bring me
Hatty! I am sure she is not happy. Do get Grandmamma to let her come
now."

"Not happy!" cried my Uncle Charles, lifting his eyebrows. "Why, what
is the matter with the girl? Can't she get married? Time enough,
surely."

Oh dear, how can men be so silly! But I let it pass, for I wanted Hatty
to come, much more than to make my Uncle Charles sensible. In fact, I
am afraid the last would take too much time and labour. There, now, I
should not have said that.

"Won't you try, Uncle Charles? I do want her so much."

"Child, I cannot interfere with my mother. Ask Hatty to spend the day.
Then you can have a talk with her."

"Uncle, please, will you ask Grandmamma?"

"If you like," said he, with a laugh.

I heard no more about it till supper-time, when my Uncle Charles said,
as if it had just occurred to him (which I dare say it had),--"Madam, I
think this little puss is disappointed that Hatty cannot come at once.
Might she not spend the day here? It would be a treat for both girls."

Grandmamma's snuff-box came out as usual. I sat on thorns, while she
rapped her box, opened it, took a pinch, shut the box with a snap, and
consigned it to her pocket.

"Yes," she said, at last. "Dorothea, you can send Caesar with a note."

"Oh, thank you, Grandmamma!" cried I.

Grandmamma looked at me, and gave an odd little laugh.

"These fresh girls!" she said, "how they do care about things, to be
sure!"

"Grandmamma, is it pleasanter not to care about things?" said I.

"It is better, my dear. To be at all warm or enthusiastic betrays
under-breeding."

"But--please, Grandmamma--do not well-bred people get very warm over
politics?"

"Sometimes