inkhams were depressed. They
missed their good bed at home; they were troubled by the roar and
noise of the streets that hardly stopped over night before it began
again in the morning. The waiter did not put what mind he may have had
to the business of serving them; and Mrs. Abel Pinkham, whose cooking
was the triumph of parish festivals at home, had her own opinion about
the beefsteak. She was a woman of imagination, and now that she was
fairly here, spectacles and all, it really pained her to find that the
New York of her dreams, the metropolis of dignity and distinction, of
wealth and elegance, did not seem to exist. These poor streets, these
unlovely people, were the end of a great illusion. They did not like
to meet each other's eyes, this worthy pair. The man began to put on
an unbecoming air of assertion, and Mrs. Pinkham's face was full of
lofty protest.

"My gracious me, Mary Ann! I am glad I happened to get the 'Tribune'
this mornin'," said Mr. Pinkham, with sudden excitement. "Just you
look here! I'd like well to know how they found out about our comin'!"
and he handed the paper to his wife across the table. "There--there 't
is; right by my thumb," he insisted. "Can't you see it?" and he smiled
like a boy as she finally brought her large spectacles to bear upon
the important paragraph.

"I guess they think somethin' of us, if you don't think much o' them,"
continued Mr. Pinkham, grandly. "Oh, they know how to keep the run o'
folks who are somebody to home! Draper and Fitch knew we was comin'
this week: you know I sent word I was comin' to settle with them
myself. I suppose they send folks round to the hotels, these
newspapers, but I shouldn't thought there'd been time. Anyway, they've
thought 't was worthwhile to put us in!"

Mrs. Pinkham did not take the trouble to make a mystery out of the
unexpected pleasure. "I want to cut it out an' send it right up home
to daughter Sarah," she said, beaming with pride, and looking at the
printed names as if they were flattering photographs. "I think 't was
most too strong to say we was among the notables. But there! 'tis
their business to dress up things, and they have to print somethin'
every day. I guess I shall go up and put on my best dress," she added,
inconsequently; "this one's kind of dusty; it's the same I rode in."

"Le' me see that paper again," said Mr. Pinkham jealously. "I didn't
more 'n half sense it, I was so taken aback. Well, Mary Ann, you
didn't