ird, "do you really know, I have
sometimes thought I should like to be a nun, just to get rid of all
this labor. If I once gave up dress altogether, and knew I was to have
nothing but one plain robe tied round my waist with a cord, it does
seem to me as if it would be a perfect repose,--only one is a
Protestant, you know."

Now, as Humming-Bird was the most notoriously dressy individual in the
little circle, this suggestion was received with quite a laugh. But
Dove took it up.

"Well, really," she said, "when dear Mr. S---- preaches those saintly
sermons to us about our baptismal vows, and the nobleness of an
unworldly life, and calls on us to live for something purer and
higher than we are living for, I confess that sometimes all my life
seems to me a mere sham,--that I am going to church, and saying solemn
words, and being wrought up by solemn music, and uttering most solemn
vows and prayers, all to no purpose; and then I come away and look at
my life, all resolving itself into a fritter about dress, and
sewing-silk, cord, braid, and buttons,--the next fashion of
bonnets,--how to make my old dresses answer instead of new,--how to
keep the air of the world, while in my heart I am cherishing something
higher and better. If there's anything I detest it is hypocrisy; and
sometimes the life I lead looks like it. But how to get out of
it?--what to do?--"

"I'm sure," said Humming-Bird, "that taking care of my clothes and
going into company is, frankly, all I do. If I go to parties, as other
girls do, and make calls, and keep dressed,--you know papa is not
rich, and one must do these things economically,--it really does take
all the time I have. When I was confirmed the Bishop talked to us so
sweetly, and I really meant sincerely to be a good girl,--to be as
good as I knew how; but now, when they talk about fighting the good
fight and running the Christian race, I feel very mean and little, for
I am quite sure this isn't doing it. But what is,--and who is?"

"Aunt Betsey Titcomb is doing it, I suppose," said Pheasant.

"Aunt Betsey!" said Humming-Bird, "well, she is. She spends all her
money in doing good. She goes round visiting the poor all the time.
She is a perfect saint;--but oh girls, how she looks! Well, now, I
confess, when I think I must look like Aunt Betsey, my courage gives
out. Is it necessary to go without hoops, and look like a dipped
candle, in order to be unworldly? Must one wear such a fright of a
bo