That day Phoebe, Aunt Eunice's hired girl, came to our house. Immediately Juliet and Anna assailed her a multitude of questions. The amount of knowledge obtained was that "Miss Hovey was a lady, and no mistake, for she had sights of silks and jewelry, and she that morning went with Phoebe to see her milk, although she didn't dare venture inside the yard. But," added Phoebe, "for all she was up so early she did not come out to breakfast until that gentleman was gone."
This was fresh proof that Penoyer was not _comme il faut_, and Anna expressed her determination to find out all about him ere Agnes went home. _I_ remembered "_Dr. Watts_" and the invitation to the party, and secretly hoped she would find out nothing bad.
Agnes had been in town about two weeks, when my home was one morning thrown into a state of unusual excitement by the arrival of a letter from Boston, containing the intelligence that Cousin Emma Rushton, who had been an invalid for more than a year, was about to try the effect of country life and country air.
This piece of news operated differently upon different members of our family. Juliet exclaimed, "Good, good; Carrie Howard won't hold her head quite so high now, for we shall have a city lady, too." Anna was delighted, because she would thus have an opportunity of acquiring city manners and city fashions. Sally said snappishly, "There's enough to wait on now, without having a stuck-up city flirt, faintin' at the sight of a worm, and screechin' if a fly comes toward her." Mother had some misgivings on the subject. She was perfectly willing Emma should come, but she doubted our ability to entertain her, knowing that the change would be great from a fashionable city home to a country farmhouse. Grandmother, who loved to talk of "my daughter in the city," was pleased, and to console mother, said:
"Never you mind, Fanny, leave her to me; you find victuals and drink, and I'll do the entertaining."
Among so many opinions it was hard for me to arrive at a conclusion. On the whole, however, I was glad, until told that during Cousin Emma's stay our garret gambols must be given up, and that I must not laugh loud, or scarcely speak above a whisper, for she was sick, and it would hurt her head. Then I wished Cousin Emma and Cousin Emma's head would stay where they belonged.