“Miss Lincoln,—The buttons on my traveling dress, which you made, do not give me any satisfaction. This is for you to come to Mrs. Varley’s this afternoon, directly after dinner, and alter them, and I shall expect you to make no extra charge for it.
“P. S. Mrs. Varley’s family would be willing to employ you on my recommendation.”
The color went and came in Jessie’s cheek, as she read the deliberate insult the writer evidently intended.
“What is it, Jessie?” said Emilie, whose electrical sympathy was instantly roused, “any thing more from those abominable Tylers? Pray let me see?” Mrs. Tower looked over Emilie’s shoulder as she read. “What insolence! Jessie Lincoln, if I were only a _man_, I am sure I should avenge your insult in single combat! Why, brother, are _you_ a man, and will you see a lady treated like that?” she continued with thrilling emphasis, throwing the note disdainfully out of her hands.
“Yes, sister, I hope I am a man,” replied the young naval officer, “but not quite so hot-headed and reckless a man as _you_ would have made. If you were on board our vessel, I fear we might have our hands full to keep you out of ‘affairs of honor!’ Miss Lincoln, I presume,” he continued, laying down the note, while a flush slowly crept to his forehead, “has wisdom enough to manage with the contempt it deserves, so very contemptible an assault!”
“I will reply to it, Jessie,” said Mrs. Tower, as she sat down before her writing-table and wrote:—
“Mrs. Tower takes the liberty to decline for Miss Lincoln, the proposition Miss Tyler has seen fit to make, as the change in Miss Lincoln’s circumstances and prospects renders any further intercourse with Miss Tyler unbefitting entirely. That intercourse is therefore at an end.”
Jessie begged that any thing so like retaliation, might not be sent, as Miss Tyler was unquestionably instigated by the Varleys, who were too cowardly to assail her only through a tool.
“It becomes me, Jessie, to vindicate the honor of my family, and I feel justified in checking such effrontery, and foiling it with its own weapons,” insisted Mrs. Tower.
“Yes, yes indeed!” said Emilie. “I’m glad of it, Mrs. Tower, and I only wish _I_ had the inditing of the reply. It would scorch like a flame, I’m sure it would, every word of it. Do, please charge me with the delivery of the missive, Mrs. Tower! my fingers ache for the commission, and I’ll add an oral appendix on my _own_ hook!”