an odd idea," pursued the other, "to be calling once a week in
this way. I left my card after the first visit; but if the little
woman means to call every other day in this way, I shall not call
again."

And so Mrs. Fairchild was dismissed from the minds of her new
neighbors, while she sat in anxious wonderment at their not calling
again.

Though Mr. Fairchild was no longer in business, yet he had property to
manage, and could still walk down town and see some business
acquaintances, and inquire into stocks, and lots, and other
interesting matters; but poor Mrs. Fairchild had fairly nothing to do.
She was too rich to sew. She could buy every thing she wanted. She had
but two children, and they could not occupy all her time; and her
house and furniture were so new, and her servants so many, that
housekeeping was a mere name. As to reading, that never formed any
part of either her or Mr. Fairchild's pleasures. They did not even
know the names of half the books they had. He read the papers, which
was more than she did beyond the list of deaths and marriages--and so
she felt as if she would die in her grandeur for something to do, and
somebody to see. We are not sure but that Mrs. Simpkins would have
been most delightedly received if she had suddenly walked in upon her.
But this Mrs. Simpkins had no idea of doing. The state of wrath and
indignation in which Mrs. Fairchild had left her old friends and
acquaintances is not easily to be described.

"She had begun to give herself airs," they said, "even before she left
---- street; and if she had thought herself a great lady then, in that
little box, what must she be now?" said Mrs. Thompson, angrily.

"I met her not long ago in a store, and she pretended not to see me,"
replied Mrs Simpkins. "So I shall not trouble myself to call," she
continued, with considerable dignity of manner; not telling, however,
that she _had_ called soon after Mrs. Fairchild moved, and her visit
had never been returned.

"Oh, I am sure," said the other, "I don't want to visit her if she
don't want to visit me;" which, we are sorry to say, Mrs. Thompson,
was a story, for you know you were dying to get in the house and see
and "hear all about it."

To which Mrs. Simpkins responded,

"That, for her part, she did not care about it--there was no love lost
between them;" and these people, who had once been kind and neighborly
friends, would not have been sorry to hear that Mr. Fairchild had
fail