ny one to see."

"My beloved Sophy, don't halloo till you are out of the wood. And you
are not out, by any means. You are vulgar and ill-bred, my dear; you
say `coom' and `boot,' and you are only fit to marry a country curate,
and cut out shirts and roll pills."

"I say what?" asked Sophy, disregarding the other particulars.

"You say `coom' and `boot,' my darling, and it ought to be `kem' and
`bet'," said Hatty, with such an affected pronunciation that Sophy and
Fanny both burst out laughing.

"What do you mean?" said Sophy amid her laughter.

"Then--Fanny, my dear, you are not to escape! You are better bred than
Sophy, because you take castor oil--"

"Hatty, what nonsense you are talking!" I cried, unable to endure any
longer. But Hatty went on, taking no notice.

"But you drop your r's, deah, and say deah Caroline,--(can't manage it
right, my dear!)--and you are slow and affected."

"Hatty, you know I never said so!" I screamed.

"Then as to me," pursued Hatty, casting her eyes up to the ceiling, "as
to poor me, I am--well, not one of the angels, on any consideration. I
tease my sweetest sister in the most cruel manner--"

"Well, that is true, Hatty, if nothing else is," said Fanny.

"I have `horrid glazed red cheeks,' and I eat like a plough-boy; and I
don't take castor oil. Castor oil is evidently one of the Christian
graces."

"How can you be so ridiculous!" said Sophy. "See, you have made the
poor child cry."

"With passion, my dear, which is a very wicked thing, as I am sure my
Aunt Kezia would tell her. A little castor oil would--"

"What is that about your Aunt Kezia?" came in another voice from the
doorway.

Oh, I was so glad to see her!

"Hoity-toity! why, what is all this, girls?" said she, severely.
"Hester, what are you doing? What is Cary crying for?"

"Hatty is teasing her, Aunt," said Fanny. "She is always doing it, I
think."

"Give me that book, Hester," said my Aunt Kezia; and Hatty passed it to
her without a word. "Now, whom does this book belong?"

"It is mine, Aunt Kezia," I said, as well as my sobs would let me; "and
Hatty has found it, and she is teasing me dreadfully about it."

"What is it, my dear?" said my Aunt Kezia.

"It is my diary, Aunt Kezia; and I did not want Hatty to get hold of
it."

"She says such things, Aunt Kezia, you can't imagine, about you and all
of us."

"I am sure I never said anything about you, Aunt Kezia," I sobbed.

"If you