Hepzibah

Hepzibah Raymond came in with a bowl of flip—the proper mixture of rum, malt beer, and brown sugar.

Miss Hepzibah took the black-edged letter coolly in her hand, eyed it stolidly for a second, and then laid it on the table.

Hepzibah then looked at a clock which stood upon the mantel-shelf, and saw that it was a little past nine.

Hepzibah, however, easily brought it forward again, for it trundled very smooth and noiselessly upon its castors.