Ursula clapped her hands and fairly danced with mirth.
"After all, Hetty, your good mother is right. Let my fortune take wings, and with all my accomplishments to aid me, I feel I should be illy prepared for the reverse. Now if your mother would only have patience to instruct me a little—suffer me to spoil several batches of bread—(the pigs would like it, you know,)—burn up a few pounds of cake, and waste a quart or two of her rich cream, I declare, I think I should learn to be a nice little farmer's maid. What pleases you, Hetty—what are you smiling at?"
"Nothing, only farmer Smith's oldest son is coming to see you—a courting, Miss Ursula; and Esquire Tompkins told father he hoped to see you before long the mistress of his beautiful new house; for he did not think he should disgrace himself by marrying such a girl as you, even if you was only a milliner."
"Why the dear old soul! Come, my false impressions begin to wear away. I find I can be loved without the glitter of gold about me. Now let us go back to the house, for I have that cap to finish for Mrs. Jones; and mind, Hetty, you don't call me Miss Ursula again, in the presence of your mother; and don't look so distressed when she chides me—it is all for my good, you know."
Now, there they go into the old farm-house, and at the window you may see the demure face of Ursula, listening to the good dame, who, with snowy cap, and spectacles, seems to be giving her a lecture, while the hands of the little milliner are busily trimming a cap placed on the block before her.
Over the brow of the hill, and down into the gentle sloping meadow, a youth comes walking leisurely. He has a portfolio under his arm, and a slight walking-stick in his hand, while the cool linen blouse and large straw hat shading him from the sun, bespeak an air of comfort really quite refreshing this warm summer day.
What! don't you know him! Ah, yes—I see you recollect Frank Leland, our modern Cœlebs.
He seems struck by the appearance of the old farm-house; its repose is, no doubt, delightful to him; and now, choosing a favorable position within the shade of a fine old tree, opens his portfolio, and commences to sketch the charmingly rural scene. And, indeed, so intent is he upon his task that the sun has already sunk behind the trees, and gentle twilight steals on with her starry train ere he rests from his employment. Then the old farmer comes out on the porch to take his evening pipe; and the good dame sits by his side with her knitting, and the sweet voice of Ursula warbles a simple ballad to please the ears of the aged pair. The young man bares his brow to the delicious breath of evening, and carefully placing his sketch within the portfolio, saunters on toward the little gate. And now Ursula hushes her song, and the old man advances with friendly greeting,
"Walk in, stranger—walk in. I should think you might be the young man I heard tell of to-day in the village—a teacher of something—I forget the name."
"A teacher of drawing," said Leland, smiling, as he took a seat on the bench by the side of the old man.