"Oh, for ushers, the Crocker boys will do. They will be glad of something to amuse them in vacation."
"Are they not rather young? Fred can hardly be eighteen yet."
"Well! he is six feet and over. One needn't tell his age; and as for best man, I think William Winchester wouldn't mind it—to oblige me."
"But why, my love, since you are so distrustful, are you so anxious to be of use in this matter?"
"Why!" echoed his wife, triumphantly; "it's the best way to encourage them to go on, and then, don't you see? if they have any dishonest designs, they'll be the sooner exposed; and then—I do want to see what the end of it all will be—don't you?"
In pursuance of these ideas, Mrs. Reed, next afternoon, put on her best bonnet, and went to call on the ladies of the Pickens family. The gardens and shrubberies of the Maynard house, always beautiful, yet showed already the want of the master's eye. The servant who opened the door was of an inferior grade, and the drawing-room, stripped of Mrs. Maynard's personal belongings, looked bare and cold. Mrs. Reed sat and sighed for her old friend full quarter of an hour, before a pale, slim, pretty girl, much dressed, and with carefully crimped locks, came in with, "It's very kind in you to call. Aunt Delia's awfully sorry to keep you waiting, but she'll be down directly."
"I am very glad to see you," said Mrs. Reed, looking with some attention at the probable bride-elect.
"Aunt Delia was sitting in her dressing-sack. She generally does, day-times. It's so much trouble to dress, she thinks. Now I think it's something to do; there isn't much else, here."
"This is a lovely place. I always admire it afresh every time I come here."
"It's lonesome; but then, it's pleasant enough for a little while. I never care to stay long in any one place. I've lived in about a hundred since I can recollect; and I wouldn't take a house in any one of 'em for a gift, if I had to live in it."