The corners of her lips inclined considerably downward.
"Can I speak a word with you, Mrs.Smith ?" said she.
"Certainly, Mary," I replied.

"What do you wish to say ?" Mary cleared her throat once or twice--looked very much embarrassed, and at length stammered out.
"You received a letter from Mrs.Jackson this morning ?" "No." I shook my head as I uttered this little monosyllable.
A flush of surprise went over the girl's face.
"Wasn't the letter I gave you from Mrs.Jackson ?" she asked.
"No; it was from Mrs.Jackman." Mary caught her breath, and stammered out, in her confusion: "Oh, my! I thought it was from Mrs.Jackson.I was sure of it." "What right had you to think any thing about it ?" I asked, with marked severity.
Mary's face was, by this time crimsoned.
I looked at her for some moments, and then, taking from my drawer Mrs.Jackman's note, handed it to her, and said: "There's the letter you were so curious about this morning.

Read it." Mary's eyes soon took in the contents.

The moment she was satisfied, she uttered a short "Oh!" strongly expressive of mental relief, and handed me back the letter.
"I thought it was from Mrs.Jackson," said the still embarrassed girl, looking confused and distressed.
"You can now retire," said I, "and when another letter is left at my door, be kind enough to consider it my property, not yours.

I shall make it my business to see Mrs.Jackson, and ascertain from her why you are so much afraid that she will communicate with me.