ther, or mother.

My first recollections of Mrs. Hollingford are associated with
plum-cake, birth-days, and bon-bons. I remember her as an erect,
dignified-looking lady in a long velvet cloak, and with a peculiarly
venerable face, half severe, half benevolent. I used to feel a little
nervous about speaking to her, but I liked to sit at a distance and look
at her. I had a superstition that she was the most powerful universal
agent in existence; that she had only to say, "Let there be plum-cake,"
and immediately it would appear on the table; or, "This little girl
requires a new doll," and at once a waxen cherub would repose in my
arms. The Miss Sweetmans paid her the greatest deference, and the girls
used to peep over the blinds in the school-room at her handsome carriage
and powdered servants. I remember, when a very little girl, presenting
myself before Miss Sweetman one day, and popping up my hand as a sign
that I wanted to ask a question. "What is the reason, Miss Sweetman," I
asked, "that Mrs. Hollingford makes me think of the valiant woman of
whom we were reading in the Bible yesterday?" But Miss Sweetman was
busy, and only puckered up her mouth and ordered me back to my seat.
Mrs. Hollingford used to take me on her knee and tell me of a little
girl of hers who was at school in France, and with whom I was one day to
be acquainted; and a tall lad, who was her son, used to call sometimes
with bouquets for Miss Sweetman or sugar-plums for me; but I was never
in her house, which I believed to be a palace, nor did I ever see Mr.
Hollingford, who was a banker in the city. After my twelfth birthday I
saw them no more. I missed the periodical appearance of the noble
countenance in the parlour. Miss Sweetman, with a very long face, told
me something of the breaking of a bank, ruin, and poverty. I was very
sorry, but I was too young to realise it much; and I went on thinking of
Mrs. Hollingford, in trouble, no doubt, and unfortunately removed from
me, but still going about the world in her long velvet cloak and with
her hands full of plum-cake.

So my youth went on till I was sixteen, pretty well grown for my years,
a little pert, a little proud, a little fond of tinsels and butterflies,
a little too apt to make fun of my neighbours, and to believe that the
sun had got a special commission to shine upon me, but withal
sympathetic and soft-hearted enough when in my right senses, and, as I
said before, not a bad sort of girl w