y interfered--I could not in pride or
conscience draw back.

Milly had taken almost no part in the little discussion between Bessie
and me, generally speaking only when she was appealed to; and I knew by
this that she did not altogether approve. But I was a little
self-willed, a state of mind not altogether of rare occurrence with me,
I am afraid; and I chose to ignore the disapprobation which was implied
by this silence, and asked her no questions.

And now for cousin Serena, to whom I bent my steps at once, accompanied
by Bessie, who volunteered to go with me; though, to tell the truth, I
could have dispensed with her society for this occasion, being afraid
of the discouraging objections and criticisms she might raise. But she
ventured none; on the contrary, she seemed rather inclined to aid and
abet me when I broached the subject to cousin Serena, in whom I was not
disappointed. She proved herself--the blessed soul--the most willing
co-adjutor, even more so than I desired; for, running to a closet where
she kept a bountiful provision of such articles, she began to bring
forth flannel, calico, and stout muslin suitable to make clothes for
poor people; whereupon my spirit shrank appalled, for, if there was one
occupation which I hated more than another, it was plain sewing,
especially upon coarse material.

"O cousin Serena!" I said, "I am not going to sew and make clothes for
Matty. It is so much easier and more convenient to buy them
ready-made."

This speech, I was sorry to see, damped cousin Serena's ardor; for this
working by proxy, as it were, did not at all coincide with her
old-fashioned notions; and "ready-made garments" were to her a delusion
and a snare, giving opportunity to Satan to find mischief for idle
hands to do. I hated to disappoint her when she was so enthusiastically
preparing to cut put work for both Bessie and me; but I hated still
more to sew, and held my ground, being borne out by Bessie, who was not
any more partial to such work than I was. Cousin Serena shook her head,
and sighed over the degeneracy of the age which could content itself
with other than such exquisite "hand-sewing" as she did herself.

Having gained my point, and made her promise all that I wished, I
insisted that she should go home with us to dinner, taking the little
bower of Dutch Johnny, the florist, by the way for a glimpse of Matty.
Cousin Serena had never seen her; but I was not afraid to have her do
so, unpromis