"The inclosed" fell on the floor, and Laura picked it up.
"Fifty dollars!—hum!—Metropolitan Bank."
"Oh, now, that is charming! Good old soul she is!"
"Yes. Very well. I'm glad she sent it in money."
"So am I. 'T isn't a butter-knife, anyhow."
"How do you mean?" inquired Laura.
"Why, Mr. Lang was telling last night about his clerk. He said he bought a pair of butter-knives for his clerk Hillman, hearing that he was to be married, and got them marked. A good substantial present he thought it was,—cost only seven dollars for a good article, and couldn't fail to be useful to Hillman. He took them himself, so as to be doubly gracious, and met his clerk at the store-door.
"'Good morning!—good morning! Wish you joy, Hillman! I've got a pair of butter-knives for your wife.—Hey? got any?'
"'Eleven, Sir.'
"Eleven butter-knives! and all marked Marcia Ann Hillman, from A.B., from C.D., and so on!"