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On the afternoon of the same day spent by Miss Nancy Skamp at Old Field Cottage, the family at Luckenough were assembled in that broad, central passage, their favorite resort in warm weather. Five years had made very little alteration here, excepting in the case of Jacquelina, who had grown up to be the most enchanting sprite that ever bewitched the hearts, or turned the heads of men.

"I know it means that you are very much out of health, Mimmy, but I hope you will be well in the spring." "Jacquelina, it means death." "Oh, no! No, no! No, no! Not so! There's Miss Nancy Skamp has had a cough every winter ever since I knew her, and she's not dead nor likely to die, and you will be well in the spring," said the girl, changing color; and faltering in spite of herself.

The first part of this oration was delivered by Miss Nancy Skamp, to some half-dozen negro grooms who were cooling their shins while waiting for the mail, before she closed the doors and windows of the post-office; the second part was addressed to Chizzle, her little negro waiter and the third concluding sentence, emphasized by a smart kick, was bestowed upon poor Molly, the mottled cat.

To put it into the village post-office was to expose it to the prying eyes of Miss Nancy Skamp. To send it to Old Fields, by a messenger, was still more hazardous. To slip it into Marian's own hand, he would have to wait the whole week until Sunday and then might not be able to do so unobserved.

Am I a pocket edition of Miss Nancy Skamp! Forbid it, Titania, Queen of the Fairies! But I didn't steal it I found it! And I must, oh! must plague Grim a little with this! Forgive me, Marian, but for the life and soul of me, I can't help keeping this to plague Grim!

While yet the little party lingered at the breakfast-table, Edith looked up, and saw the tall, thin figure of a woman in a nankeen riding-shirt, and a nankeen corded sun-bonnet, in the act of dismounting from her great, raw-boned white horse, "If there isn't Miss Nancy Skamp!" exclaimed Edith, in no very hospitable tone "and I wonder how she can leave the post-office."

It was only at the foot of his own table, after ladling out and serving around the stewed oysters "hot and hot," that the commodore, rubbing his hands, and smiling until his great face was as grotesque as a nutcracker's, announced that Miss Nancy Skamp was turned out of office yea, discrowned, unsceptred, dethroned, and that Harry Barnwell reigned in her stead.