ess' at first. I thought it rather dull, and liked the
Fairy Book better. I said so to Papa one day; and instead of replying,
he went to the bookcase, and taking down Boswell's 'Life of Johnson,' he
read me a little story. I think I can say it in the very words of the
book, they made so deep an impression on me: 'Dr. Johnson one day took
Bishop Percy's little daughter on his knee, and asked her what she
thought of 'Pilgrim's Progress.' The child answered that she had not
read it. 'No!' replied the Doctor; 'then I would not give one farthing
for you!' And he set her down, and took no further notice of her.' When
Papa explained to me," continued Hildegarde, laughing, "what a great man
Dr. Johnson was, it seemed to me very dreadful that he should think me,
or another little girl like me, not worth a farthing. So I set to work
with right good-will at 'Pilgrim's Progress;' and when I was once fairly
_in_ the story, of course I couldn't put it down till I had finished
it."

"Your father is a very sensible man," said Miss Wealthy, approvingly.
"'Pilgrim's Progress' is an important part of a child's education,
certainly! Let me give you a little more pudding, Hilda, my dear! No!
nor you, Rose? Then, if the Doctor is ready, suppose we go into the
parlor."

They found the parlor very cool and pleasant, with the blinds, as usual,
drawn half-way down. Miss Wealthy drew one blind half an inch lower,
compared it with the others, and pushed it up an eighth of an inch.

"And what are you going to do with yourselves this afternoon, girlies?"
she asked, settling herself in her armchair, and smelling of her
pansies, which, as usual, stood on the little round table at her elbow.

"Rose must go and lie down at once!" said Hildegarde, decidedly. "She
must lie down for two hours every day at first, Dr. Flower says, and one
hour by and by, when she is a great deal stronger. And I--oh, I shall
read to her a little, till she begins to be sleepy, and then I shall
write to Mamma and wander about. This is such a _happy_ place, Cousin
Wealthy! One does not need to do anything in particular; it is enough
just to be alive and well." Then she remembered her manners, and added:
"But isn't there something I can do for you, Cousin Wealthy? Can't I
write some notes for you,--I often write notes for Mamma,--or wind some
worsted, or do something useful? I have been playing all day, you
know."

Miss Wealthy looked pleased. "Thank you, my dear!" she said