SUSAN GRAY. 95

mistress coming along the path-way from the
town; she carried a large basket under her
arm, and seemed, from her way of walking, to
be in a great hurry.

When she came to the garden-wicket, she
called me several times with a loud voice to
open the cottage-door. As soon as she was
in the house, she set down her basket in the
midst of the kitchen, and, standing for a few
minutes to rest herself, with her arms upon her
sides, ‘* Susan,” said she, ‘‘ you must see and
bestir yourself. Why, this is the most un-
lucky thing that could have happened: I was
engaged to assist my cousin at the Blue-Boar,
and have been obliged to leave every thing in
sixes and sevens; and it has hurried me so,
running down here and getting things together,
that I think I shall hardly recover my breath
to-day.”

So saying, she began to unpack her basket.
She took out of it some tea and sugar, a loaf
of fine white bread, some cold fowls and ham,
and several bottles of wine; and placing them
on the dresser, ‘Susan, you may well look
surprised,” said she, “‘ why, who do you think
is coming to pay me a visit this evening?”

“Indeed,” I answered, “I cannot tell; but
some great person, I should think, if I may
judge by all these nice things which you have
brought with you.”

‘©A great person, indeed!” said my mis-
tress; “ well, it was the last thing that I could
have thought of, or expected—that such a lady
should think of visiting such a poor body as I