"What a fool I am making of myself!" she said.

"The fact is, John, I am only a little nervous.

You mustn't mind it.

You know," she said, laughing, "we old maids are like cats,--we find it hard to be put out of our old routine.

I dare say we shall all of us be happier in the end for this, and I shall try to do all I can to make it so.
Perhaps, John, I'd better take that little house of mine on Elm Street, and set up my tent in it, and take all the old furniture and old pictures, and old-time things.