Mrs. Janet Blodgett

It was a chilly, rainy afternoon toward the latter part of August.
John was gone, the doctor was cross, and Hannah was cross. Nellie,
too, was unusually irritable, and venting her spite upon Hannah
because there was nothing for dinner fit to eat, and upon Maude
because the house was so desolate and dark, she crept away upstairs,
and wrapping a shawl round her, sat down to a novel, pausing
occasionally to frown at the rain which beat at the windows or the
wind as it roared dismally through the trees.

While thus employed she heard the sound of wheels, and looking up, saw standing before
their gate a muddy wagon, from which a little, dumpy figure in black
was alighting, carefully holding up her alpaca dress, and carrying
in one hand a small box which seemed to be full of flowers.

"She must have come to stay a long time," thought Nellie, as she saw
the piles of baggage which the driver was depositing upon the stoop.
"Who can it be?" she continued, as she recalled all her aunts and
cousins, and found that none of them answered the description of
this woman, who knocked loudly at the door, and then walked in to
shelter herself from the storm.

"Forlornity!" Nellie heard her exclaim, as she left the chamber in
answer to the summons. "Forlornity! No table, no hat-stand, no
nothin', and the dingiest old ile-cloth! What does it mean? Your
servant, miss," she added, dropping a courtesy to Nellie, who now
stood on the stairs, with her finger between the pages of her book,
so as not to lose the place. "I guess I've made a mistake," said the
woman; "is this Dr. Canady's?"