"I feel as though I wanted to thank you for all your kindness to Letty," she said. "You have, as she says, done every thing for her."
"I assure you, Mrs. Train, the obligation has been mutual," said Mrs. Trescott, kindly. "Letty has been my faithful friend for eight years. She has made my interest her own, and my sorrows as well." Mrs. Trescott's voice faltered, and she paused a little. "I feel as though I could easily be very selfish, when I think of losing her; but I am sure she is going to do well. Mr. Trescott has kept his eye on John Caswell ever since we first began to suspect how matters were going; and he is quite sure that there is not a better young man in town."
"His principles are excellent, and his practice is equally so," added Mr. Trescott. "He has been a member of our church for four years; and one more useful or more consistent it would be hard to find. He has been very economical, too: so that they have a nice little sum on hand with which to begin housekeeping. I assure you, Mrs. Train, that Letty's best friends could wish her no brighter prospects than she has before her. Of course, we do not know what calamities Heaven may see fit to send; but, after all, there is every thing in beginning well."
Mrs. Train sighed as she turned away. She began to fear that her own daughter had not begun in the best way. Agnes had expensive notions; so had Joseph; and she believed they had spent more than they could afford, all the time they were boarding. How would it be now that they were keeping house?
Agnes really knew very little about housekeeping. She had been kept in school till she was sixteen, and she had worked in the shop ever since. Mrs. Train herself had done every thing about the house, from cooking and marketing to sweeping and dusting, because, she said, Agnes must keep her hands nice for her work,—but really because it was less trouble to do things herself than to teach her daughter. She was afraid they would not be able to save much, if indeed they could avoid running into debt; and she did not see how she could help them, either. Her own income was very small, and barely sufficed for her daily wants, even when eked out by the profits of her sewing; and she had anticipated it for the expenses of Agnes's wedding outfit and party: so that, save as she would, she must be behind-hand for at least a year.
Mrs. Train sighed again, and passed the butcher's without going in, as she had intended, to buy a beefsteak,—but went home and made her solitary dinner on potatoes and a bit of cold pork, with a cup of tea without milk by way of dessert.
When our young friends arrived at the farm, they found Aunt Eunice standing at the door to receive them, dressed in her very best brown India satin, her crape kerchief and cap, and clear muslin apron. Aunt Eunice had been brought up among Friends, and, though she had married "out of meeting," she still adhered to her plain dress and habit of speech. She welcomed her guests with affectionate warmth.
"I hesitated," she said, "about asking thee to spend thy wedding-day with me; but, after all, I am growing an old woman. I have passed my fourscore years, and am living as it were upon borrowed time, which may be recalled at any hour. So I thought I would use the day while it was my own."
"I think you are looking very well, Aunt Eunice," said Letty. "Don't you feel as strong as usual?"
"Yes, my dear; I am very well for fourscore and two. Nevertheless, in the course of nature, I cannot continue much longer; and it is borne in upon my mind that my death may be sudden. But we won't talk of that now. Come into my room and take off thy bonnet. How nicely thou art dressed, my child!" she continued, when they were alone together. "So exactly in thy dear mother's taste. I could almost wish she were here to see thee."