it for you, and he will not for her."

Eunice was amazed at her own protest. The child had always been prettily
attired. And more attention was being paid to children's clothes she
noticed in church on Sunday, and after she had indulged in such sinful
wanderings, she read the chapter in Isaiah where the prophet denounced
the "round tires like the moon, the bonnets and the head bands, the
mantles, and wimples, and crisping pins, and changeable suits of
apparel," and other vanities, and predicted dire punishments for them.

Mrs. Turner had called according to her proposal. She brought her little
daughter Arabella, commonly called Bella. Cousin Chilian was out in the
garden with Cynthia, and received her with his usual kindly cordiality,
inviting them to walk into the house. The parlor shutters were tightly
closed, and Mrs. Turner abhorred state parlors. Hers was always open,
for guests were no rarity.

"Why can't we sit out here a spell? It is so delightful to have this
garden in view. And your clematis is a perfect show. Then let the
children run around and get acquainted. How are the ladies?"

She seated herself on the bench at the side of the porch.

"I will call them," he said. "But--hadn't you better walk in?"

"Oh, we can't stay very long. I've been waiting for the ladies to return
my last call, but we were down in this vicinity, so I stopped. You see,
I don't always stand on ceremony. And we have been so interested in your
little girl. I saw her in Merrit's with Miss Winn."

He summoned the ladies, and then he returned to the guests. The children
were both down the path--Bella talking and gesticulating, and Cynthia
laughing.

Mrs. Turner was in nowise formal. She talked of Mr. Turner's
business--he was a shipbuilder--of the rapid strides Salem was making;
indeed one would hardly know it for old Salem of the witch days. And
people's ideas had broadened out so, softened from their rigidity,
"though some of the old folks are thinking the very trade we are so
proud of is going to ruin our character and morals, and fill us with
pride and vanity. But I say to Mr. Turner the people did their hard work
and bore their deprivations bravely all through the Revolution, and we
can't go back and make their lot easier by depriving ourselves of
comforts, or even pleasures."

There might be some casuistry in that, but there was truth as well.

Then he asked if she knew of any nice schools for girls. Where did hers
go?