did so.
Mrs. Burton had declined to become a purchaser of her articles,
retreating from her former protestations of benevolence, under the plea
that her wretch of a husband curtailed her supply of means, in order to
gratify his own avaricious disposition.

"Just as I expected," said Mrs. Hardyng. "The true state of the case is
this: that woman is a jealous, narrow-minded, illiberal creature, with a
tongue 'hung in the middle.' She wanted to get you there simply to
satisfy her own idle curiosity, and insult you with her insolent
patronage. You have made another enemy, and that is all there is of it."

"I hope it will prove all there is of it," said Clemence, uneasily. "I
am sure I owe her no ill will, and I can't imagine why any body should
wish to injure me, for I try not to offend them, but simply wish to
mind my own business, and allow others to do the same."

Mrs. Hardyng laughed musically. "Why, child, that is the supreme cause
of all your unpopularity. You mind your own business too much for these
good people. You are not as old as I am, and you seem to have got a
one-sided view of matters and things generally. I dare say, at this
moment your unsophisticated mind harbors some such creed as this, that
if you pursue your own poor and worthy way in meekness and humility,
without obtruding yourself upon other people's notice--in short, only
ask to be left in peace to follow the bent of your own harmless
inclination, that you do not ask what it is impossible to accomplish.
But you are mistaken. There is no one so poor and humble but what these
little great people will find time to criticise and find fault with
whatever they may undertake. So, no matter how modest and unobtrusive
you are, by comporting yourself in a dignified and lady-like manner, you
offer an affront to these people, who, though themselves deficient in
every attribute of politeness and good breeding, yet are sufficiently
instructed by their dulled instincts, to realize your infinite
superiority, and hate you accordingly."

"Why, Ulrica," said Clemence, startled by her friend's vehemence, "you
quite overwhelm me. I wish, though," she added; with a sigh, "that I
could doubt the truthfulness of the picture."

CHAPTER XII.

"What are you doing there, Clemence?" asked her friend; "not destroying
that pretty article, I hope."

"Yes and no," was the reply. "Upon examination, I find that it has
become quite soiled, and thought I would make anoth