This done, she thrust the letter into her pocket, and proceeded to examine the others.  The first was in Cousin Helen’s clear, beautiful handwriting:—­

Dear Katy,—­If any one had told us ten years ago that in this particular year of grace you would be getting ready to be married, and I preparing to come to your wedding, I think we should have listened with some incredulity, as to an agreeable fairy tale which could not possibly come true.  We didn’t look much like it, did we,—­you in your big chair and I on my sofa?  Yet here we are!  When your letter first reached me it seemed a sort of impossible thing that I should accept your invitation; but the more I thought about it the more I felt as if I must, and now things seem to be working round to that end quite marvellously.  I have had a good winter, but the doctor wishes me to try the experiment of the water cure again which benefited me so much the summer of your accident.  This brings me in your direction; and I don’t see why I might not come a little earlier than I otherwise should, and have the great pleasure of seeing you married, and making acquaintance with Lieutenant Worthington.  That is, if you are perfectly sure that to have at so busy a time a guest who, like the Queen of Spain, has the disadvantage of being without legs, will not be more care than enjoyment.  Think seriously over this point, and don’t send for me unless you are certain.  Meanwhile, I am making ready.  Alex and Emma and little Helen—­who is a pretty big Helen now—­are to be my escorts as far as Buffalo on their way to Niagara.  After that is all plain sailing, and Jane Carter and I can manage very well for ourselves.  It seems like a dream to think that I may see you all so soon; but it is such a pleasant one that I would not wake up on any account.

I have a little gift which I shall bring you myself, my Katy; but I have a fancy also that you shall wear some trifling thing on your wedding-day which comes from me, so for fear of being forestalled I will say now, please don’t buy any stockings for the occasion, but wear the pair which go with this, for the sake of your loving

    Cousin Helen.

“These must be they,” cried Elsie, pouncing on one of the little packages.  “May I cut the string, Katy?”

Permission was granted; and Elsie cut the string.  It was indeed a pair of beautiful white silk stockings embroidered in an open pattern, and far finer than anything which Katy would have thought of choosing for herself.

“Don’t they look exactly like Cousin Helen?” she said, fondling them.  “Her things always are choicer and prettier than anybody’s else, somehow.  I can’t think how she does it, when she never by any chance goes into a shop.  Who can this be from, I wonder?”

“This” was the second little package.  It proved to contain a small volume bound in white and gold, entitled, “Advice to Brides.”  On the fly-leaf appeared this inscription:—­