The matter of seats was soon arranged to the satisfaction of all parties.  The old lady and myself had the back seat, while my companion took the middle seat.  I observed that the above-named gentleman passenger offered several polite attentions to my companion, while he did not seem to notice me at all, although I had let him know that I was a person of so much consequence.  This might be accounted for by the fact that she was seated very near him, while my seat was more distant, or there might be some other cause for it.

The opinion of a stranger whom I never expected again to meet, was not in itself of any great importance; yet it certainly had a bearing on the question whether or not my traveling instructions were of the right kind.  If they were, my answer was certainly the right one, and calculated to make a favorable impression upon the minds of my fellow passengers.  But when I tried to look at the affair in this light, I was disturbed by a secret thought that I should have had a more comfortable feeling of self-respect, if I had given up the back seat—­for which, after all, I did not care a straw—­to an aged female, who really thought she could not ride on the middle seat.

When I returned home, I related the incident to Miss Tompkins, the seamstress whose directions I had undertaken to follow, and also frankly owned that I was not quite sure which reply had caused that peculiar smile.  She assured me there could be no doubt on that point.  “The gentleman was amused at the ignorance of the world which that other girl showed.  He thought she was not much, or she would not so readily step aside, and give up her rights to any one who might choose to claim them.”

But I was by no means convinced of the truth of this statement of the case; and when I was a little older, I came to such conclusions on the subject that I believe I have never tried, since that time, to establish my claim to be a person of consequence by similar means.

Indeed, to tell the truth, I have not thought much of the wisdom of these instructions, from that day to this; and I certainly would not recommend to you, my young friend, that which I have turned out of my own service, as useless lumber.  Seriously, I do not think you will ever suffer in the opinion of your fellow travelers, by being kind and obliging, and showing that you do not think yourself of so much consequence as to forget there is any one else in the world.  When a person takes pains to impress others with a sense of his importance, it almost always excites a suspicion that he is trying to pass for something more than he really is.  It does not require all this show and pretension to keep the place which really belongs to him, and to attempt more than this, will only draw upon him neglect and contempt.

To this chapter in the experience of Aunt Kate, I feel very much like adding a word or two, “by way of improvement,” as the ministers say.  But on second thought, I guess it will be as well to let you use the diving bell, and see if you cannot bring out the improvement yourselves.