to fill the meshes of my lace with responsibilities too heavy for the
delicate fabric to bear. Nobody liked the looks of it better than I
did. I always had a fancy for lace, though not for feathers; its rich,
delicate, soft falls, to my notion, suited my mother's form and style
better than anything else, and suited me. My taste found no fault. But
now that so much good was wrought into its slight web, and so much
silver lay hidden in every embroidered flower, the thing was changed.
Graceful, and becoming, and elegant, more than any other adornment;
what then? My mother and father had a great deal of money, too, to
spare; enough, I thought, for lace and for the above tea and sugar,
too; what then? And what if not enough? I pondered till my Aunt Gary
broke out upon me, that I would grow a wizened old woman if I sat
musing at that rate, and sent me to bed. It stopped my pondering for
that night; but not for all the years since that night.

My preparations were quite made before my aunt got her feathers
adjusted to her satisfaction; and in the bright days of autumn we went
back again to Magnolia. This was a joyful journey and a glad arriving,
compared to last year; and the welcome I got was something which
puzzled my heart between joy and sorrow many times during the first
few days.

And now Miss Pinshon's reign fairly began. I was stronger in health,
accustomed to my circumstances; there was no longer any reason that
the multiplication table and I should be parted. My governess was
determined to make up for lost time; and the days of that winter were
spent by me between the study table and fire. That is, when I think of
that winter my memory finds me there. Multiplication and its
correlatives were the staple of existence; and the old book room of my
grandfather was the place where my harvests of learning were sown and
reaped.

Somehow, I do not think the crops were heavy. I tried my best, and
Miss Pinshon certainly tried her best. I went through and over immense
fields of figures; but I fancy the soil did not suit the growth. I
know the fruits were not satisfactory to myself, and, indeed, were not
fruits at all, to my sense of them; but rather dry husks and hard nut
shells, with the most tasteless of small kernels inside. Yet Miss
Pinshon did not seem unsatisfied; and, indeed, occasionally remarked
that she believed I meant to be a good child. Perhaps that was
something out of my governess's former experience; for it w