CHAPTER XXI. KATY GOES TO CHURCH, AND HAS A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

 Ten years is a long time—long enough to change the child into a woman, the little candy merchant into a fine lady. I suppose, therefore, that my young friends will need to be introduced to Miss Redburn. There she sits in the pleasant apartment in Temple Street, where the picture of the mischievous girl still hangs, though it looks very little like the matron at her side, for whom it was taken. She is not beautiful enough to be the heroine of a romance, neither has she done any absurd thing; she has only supported her mother when she had no one else to care for her. But Katy is irresistible if she is not pretty. She still looks as pleasant as a morning in June, and smiles sweetly when any one speaks to her and when she speaks to any one.

 

I am sorry I cannot inform my young lady friends how Miss Redburn was dressed, or how she proposed to dress, at her birthday party, which was to come off the following week—what silks, what laces what muslins, and what jewels she was to wear. I can only say that she was dressed very plainly, and that her garments were exceedingly becoming; and that she had steadily resisted the solicitations of sundry French milliners and dressmakers to exceed her usual simplicity at the party—and I cordially command her example to all young ladies.

 

While Miss Redburn sat at the window, the doorbell rang with great violence; and Michael—yes, Michael—he is still there, a veteran in the service of Mrs. Gordon, and fully believing that Katy is an angel—Michael hastened to admit Grace. She is a little older than when we saw her last, but she is the same Grace. She enters the room, kisses Katy with as much zeal as though she had not seen her for months, though they had met the day before. She had scarcely saluted her cousin before a little fat man of six came tumbling into the room, for he had not been able to keep up with his mother.

 

"Come, aunty," said little Tommy, who persisted in calling her by this title, as he rolled up to Miss Redburn, who gave him a hearty kiss—"come, aunty, I want you to come right down into the kitchen, and make me a lot of molatheth candy."

 

"Not now, Tommy"—would you believe it, reader? that little boy's name is Thomas Howard Parker—"not now, Tommy. I came to tell you, Katy, that the King of the Billows has been telegraphed."

 

"Has she?" exclaimed Katy, a deep blush suffusing her cheek.

 

"Yes; and you must go right down to the wharf, or we shall not be in season to see Captain Howard, who is coming up in a pilot boat."

 

Miss Redburn hastened to put on her things, and she and Mrs. Parker seated themselves in the carriage that waited them.

 

Of course, you know Captain Howard, reader? He has followed the sea only eleven years; and though but twenty-five years old, he is the commander of a fine clipper, and sails in the Liverpool line. He is frequently quoted as an example of what patient perseverance will accomplish; for, with very little aid from friends, he has worked his way from the forecastle into the cabin. He is a self-educated man, and has the reputation of being a thorough sailor and a perfect gentleman.

 

Pursuant to a little arrangement made between Captain Howard and Miss Redburn, just as he departed on this voyage, they were both seen in church on the following Thursday afternoon; and when they came out, people addressed Katy as Mrs. Howard. But to pass on to the occasions which she had chosen to call a birthday party, though it was not exactly that; and as it came immediately after the church service, some called it a levee.

 

There are a great many persons in the Gordon mansion, as many as two hundred, I should think. Of course, I cannot stop to introduce all of them, but there are a few who deserve this favor.

 

"Mr. Sneed, I am delighted to see you," said Mrs. Howard, as a very tall and very slim gentleman, elegantly dressed, approached.

 

"You do me honor, madam. It is the superlative felicity of my sublunary existence to congratulate you on this auspicious occasion," replied Mr. Sneed, as he gently pressed the gloved hand of the lady.

 

That sounds just like Master Simon Sneed, only very much intensified. Simon is a salesman still in a large establishment—has never risen above that position and probably never will; for, born to be a gentleman, he feels as much above his business as his business really is above him.

 

Simon's father and mother say a pleasant word to the bride, and pass on. And here comes a great fat woman, whose tongue flies like the shuttle in a loom. Well, it is the captain's mother. Since her son has been prosperous, she has had an easy time of it, and has grown very corpulent.

 

"Who do you think has come, Katy?" puffed Mrs. Howard.

 

"I don't know. Who?"

 

"Mrs. Colvin, that was! Mrs. McCarty, that is."

 

Some of the very good-natured people laughed, and some of the very fastidious ones turned up their noses, when they saw Mrs. McCarty so warmly received by the bride; but she did not care who laughed or who sneered; she was not too proud to welcome, in the hour of prosperity and happiness, those who had been her friends in adversity.

 

"Mrs. Howard, I congratulate you," said a fat man, who was puffing and blowing at the heat of the room.

 

It was an ex-mayor and after he had said a few pleasant words, he passed on to make room for a hundred more who were waiting to speak to the bride.

 

That was a very pleasant party; but as we are opposed to crowded rooms and late hours, we may as well retire.

 

The next day the happy couple started upon a bridal tour, and on their return, Captain Howard sailed for Liverpool, in his fine ship, with Mrs. Howard as a passenger.

 

And now my young friend, adieu. If you are poor, don't be too proud to work at any honest occupation; but be too proud to do wrong—too proud to degrade yourself in your own eyes, by doing a mean act; and in this sense you may truly be "Poor and Proud."

The End