o entranced him.

Lillie cried, and said she never had any trouble before about "getting
her things done." She was sure mamma or Trixie or somebody did them,
or got them done,--she never knew how or when. With many tears and
sobs, she protested her ardent desire to realize the Scriptural idea
of the fowls of the air and the lilies of the field, which were fed
and clothed, "like Solomon in all his glory," without ever giving a
moment's care to the matter.

John kissed and, embraced, and wiped away her tears, and declared she
should have every thing just as she desired it, if it took the half of
his kingdom.

After consoling his fair one, he burst into Grace's room in the
evening, just at the hour when they used to have their old brotherly
and sisterly confidential talks.

"You see, Grace,--poor Lillie, dear little thing,--you don't know how
distressed she is; and, Grace, we must find somebody to do up all her
fol-de-rols and fizgigs for her, you know. You see, she's been _used_
to this kind of thing; can't do without it."

"Well, I'll try to-morrow, John," said Grace, patiently. "There is
Mrs. Atkins,--she is a very nice woman."

"Oh, exactly! just the thing," said John. "Yes, we'll get her to take
all Lillie's things every week; That settles it."

"Do you know, John, at the prices that Mrs. Atkins asks, you will have
to pay more than for all your family service together? What we have
this week would be twenty dollars, at the least computation; and it is
worth it too,--the work of getting up is so elaborate."

John opened his eyes, and looked grave. Like all stable New-England
families, the Seymours, while they practised the broadest liberality,
had instincts of great sobriety in expense. Needless profusion shocked
them as out of taste; and a quiet and decent reticence in matters of
self-indulgence was habitual with them.

Such a price for the fine linen of his little angel rather staggered
him; but he gulped it down.

"Well, well, Oracle," he said, "cost what it may, she must have it as
she likes it. The little creature, you see, has never been accustomed
to calculate or reflect in these matters; and it is trial enough to
come down to our stupid way of living,--so different, you know, from
the gay life she has been leading."

Miss Seymour's saintship was somewhat rudely tested by this remark.
That anybody should think it a sacrifice to be John's wife, and a
trial to accept the homestead at Springdale, with