sins went upstairs to
dress. Mabel, we must suppose, thought that as she was going to a
clergyman's house, she should have to listen to a sermon; or if not
that, to sit still, and say nothing, while the seniors talked about sick
folks, and old men and women, till she should be quite wearied out; and
this was certainly no pleasant prospect for a lively young lady. But
Mabel said nothing of all this; as usual, her conversation turned on
what she should wear.

'Are you not going to change your dress, Clara?' said her cousin; 'you
are surely not going to the vicarage in that dowdy-looking frock? Why,
it is only fit to wear in the mornings, or to go visiting to dirty
cottages, such as we went to yesterday.'

'Now don't let us talk about dress,' said Clara; 'my frock is what Aunt
Mary bought for me, and if she thinks it good enough for me to wear, I'm
sure I do too. Besides, Mabel, you are very much mistaken if you think
that Mr. or Mrs. Newlove would notice your dress, unless, indeed, it
were a very smart one, such as I know they wouldn't like.'

'Then I shan't care for _their_ likes, but I shall just put on what _I
like_ myself,' said the graceless girl, as she took from her drawer a
very pretty printed muslin, and proceeded to array herself in it,
finishing off by donning a little black hat with a white feather in it.

'Now, suppose it should rain,' suggested Clara, 'what becomes of your
pretty frock and your white feather?'

'There is not the least likelihood of rain,' replied Mabel; 'I never saw
a finer evening;' and away she ran downstairs, but taking care to avoid
a meeting with her aunt until they were all ready to start.

It was indeed a lovely evening for a walk. It had been very hot at one
time of the day, but there had been a thunder-shower in the afternoon,
which had cooled the air, and given freshness of colouring to the
surrounding vegetation, deepening the tints on flower and shrub and
tree, while,

'The ling'ring sun seem'd loth to leave
Landskip so fair, to gentle eve.'

Aunt Mary, though of course she noticed the difference in the dresses of
her nieces, said nothing about it; but kept up, as she usually did, a
conversation both amusing and instructive. Even Mabel forgot her fine
clothes in listening to her aunt, and for the present seemed to be
thrown out of self. Such a charm is there in wise teaching.

Nor when they reached the pretty, secluded vicarage, and were heartily
welcomed by its in