"Doll" was the very contrast to the lady of the other tea-table.

A little woman, rather fleshy, in a close cap and neat spare gown, with a face which seemed a compound of benevolent good-will, and anxious care lest everybody should not get the full benefit of it.

It had known care of another kind too.

If her brother had, his jovial, healthy, hearty face gave no sign.
After tea Winthrop went back to Diamond St.
"We didn't wait for you," said Mr.Forriner as he came in, -- "for we thought you didn't intend probably to be back to tea." "What success have you had ?" inquired his better half.
"I have had tea, ma'am," said Winthrop.
"Have you found any place ?" "Or the place found me." "You have got one! -- Where is it ?" "In Beaver St.-- the place where my brother used to be." "What's the name ?" said Mr.Forriner.
"Inchbald." "What is he ?" asked Mrs.Forriner.
"An Englishman -- a miniature painter by profession." "I wonder if he makes his living at that ?" said Mrs.Forriner.
"What do you have to pay ?" said her husband.
"A fair rent, sir.

And now I will pay my thanks for storage and take away my trunk." "To-night ?" said Mr.Forriner.
"Well, cousin, we shall be glad to see you sometimes," said Mrs.Forriner.
"At what times, ma'am ?" said Winthrop.
He spoke with a straightforward simplicity which a little daunted her.
"O," she said colouring, "come when you have an hour to spare -- any time when you have nothing better to do." "I will come then," he said smiling..