fault with Him who
made the weather?"

"I do wish, grandma," answered Lucy, "that I could ever say anything
which did not furnish you with a text from which to preach me a
sermon."

Grandma did not reply directly to this rather uncivil speech, but,
she continued: "I don't see how the weather will hurt thee, if it's
the party thee is thinking of, for Mr. Graham's is only ten rods or so
from here.

"I'm not afraid I can't go," answered Lucy; "but you know as well as I
that if the wind blows enough to put out a candle, father is so
old-maidish as to think Lizzie and I must wear thick stockings and
dresses, and I shouldn't wonder if he insisted on flannel wrappers!"

"Well," answered grandma, "I think myself it will be very imprudent
for Lizzie, in her present state of health, to expose her neck and
arms. Thy poor marm died with consumption when she wasn't much older
than thee is. Let me see--she was twenty-three the day she died, and
thee was twenty-two in Sep--"

"For heaven's sake, grandmother," interrupted Lucy, "don't continually
remind me of my age, and tell me how much younger mother was when she
was married. I can't help it if I'm twenty-two, and not married or
engaged either. But I will be both before I am a year older."

So saying, she quitted the apartment, and repaired to her own room.

Ere we follow her thither we will introduce both her and her sister to
our readers. Lucy and Lizzie were the only children of Mr. Dayton, a
wealthy, intelligent, and naturally social man, the early death of
whose idolized, beautiful wife had thrown a deep gloom over his
spirits, which time could never entirely dispel. It was now seventeen
years since, a lonely, desolate widower, at the dusky twilight hour he
had drawn closely to his bosom his motherless children, and thought
that but for them he would gladly have lain down by her whose home was
now in heaven. His acquaintances spoke lightly of his grief, saying he
would soon get over it and marry again. They were mistaken, for he
remained single, his widowed mother supplying to his daughters the
place of their lost parent.

In one thing was Mr. Dayton rather peculiar. Owing to the death of
his wife, he had always been in the habit of dictating to his
daughters in various small matters, such as dress, and so forth, about
which fathers seldom trouble themselves. And even now he seemed to
forget that they were children no longer, and often interfered in
their plans in a