l likely that the "leopard would change
his spots," at that late day. No; it couldn't be John's rich relatives,
who were always in such a panic lest upper-tendom should discover that
their cousins, the Harrises, lived in an unfashionable part of the
town, dined at one o'clock, and noticed trades-people and mechanics.

We were too sensible to believe in fairies, and who the mischief was
emptying the "horn of plenty" in that way at our feet, was the
question.

When we woke the next morning, we found in the back yard, a barrel of
apples, a barrel of flour, a keg of butter, and a bag of buckwheat
flour; labelled, "For Mr. John Harris, ---- street."

John declared, (after pinching himself to see if he were really John,)
that he fastened the gate inside the very last thing before he put on
his night-cap. Mrs. Harris said somebody must have climbed over and
unfastened it; and I jumped right up and down, for a bright thought had
just struck me, and I was determined to hold on to it, for I didn't
have a bright thought _every_ day.

"What now?" said John, as I capered round the room.

"Oh! nothing," said I, "only it takes a woman, after all, to find out a
secret--and to _keep it, too_," I added, snapping my fingers at him.

That day I thought it would do me good to ride about in an omnibus. I
tried several. It didn't make much difference to me whether they went
up street or down, or where they finally stopped. I was looking more at
the passengers.

By and by I saw the person I wanted. Said I, in a whisper, sitting down
beside him, "House rent--clerkship--flour--butter--crackers and
buckwheat; all for giving you a seat in an omnibus!"

Didn't I know that "the fairy" was the nice old man with silver locks?
Didn't he bribe me to hold my tongue, by telling me that he would come
and drink tea with me, so that he might get a peep at John and his
mother? Didn't he come? and didn't I look as much astonished when he
called, as if it hadn't been all settled two days previous? But how was
_I_ to know that Mrs. Harris would turn out to be an old love of his?
How was _John_ to know, when he felt such an irresistible impulse to be
kind to the old man, that his hair had grown white loving his mother?
How was the _old man_ to know why he loved John so well, and thought
him one of the finest young men he had ever seen? How was _I_ to know
that I was to turn out to be what I always so mortally hated--a
feminine match-maker?

LITTL