Early in August, Mr. Smith said to me, one evening after returning from the city—on that very morning, a family of four had left me, after staying three days—
"I met Mr. Gray this afternoon, and he told me that they were coming out to see you to-morrow. That he was going away for a while, and his wife thought that it would be such a pleasant time to redeem her promise of making you a visit."
"Oh dear! What next!" I exclaimed in a distressed voice. "Is there to be no end to this?"
"Not before frost, I presume," returned Mr. Smith, meaningly.
"I wish frost would come along quickly, then," was my response. "But how long is Mr. Gray going to be absent from home?"
"He didn't say."
"And we're to have his whole family, I suppose, during his absence."
"Doubtless."
"Well, I call that taxing hospitality and good feeling a little too far. I don't want them here! I've no room for them without inconvenience to ourselves. Besides, my help is poor."
But, all my feelings of repugnance were of no avail. As I was sitting, on the next day, by a window, that overlooked the road, I saw the stage draw up, and issue therefrom Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones, servant and five children—two of the latter twin-babies. They had boxes, carpet bags, bundles, &c., indicating a prolonged sojourn, and one little boy dragged after him a pet dog, that came also to honor us with a visit.