, she had her eyes wide open to the acquired habits that
were susceptible of remedy. On certain points she would quite artlessly
lecture her parent; and that parent, instead of being hurt, felt a
sensation of pleasure in discovering that the girl _dared_ lecture her,
that she was so much at home with her.

"Mamma, I am determined you shall not wear that old gown any more. Its
fashion is not becoming; it is too strait in the skirt. You shall put on
your black silk every afternoon. In that you look nice; it suits you.
And you shall have a black satin dress for Sundays--a real satin, not a
satinet or any of the shams. And, mamma, when you get the new one, mind
you must wear it."

"My dear, I thought of the black silk serving me as a best dress for
many years yet, and I wished to buy you several things."

"Nonsense, mamma. My uncle gives me cash to get what I want. You know he
is generous enough; and I have set my heart on seeing you in a black
satin. Get it soon, and let it be made by a dressmaker of my
recommending. Let me choose the pattern. You always want to disguise
yourself like a grandmother. You would persuade one that you are old and
ugly. Not at all! On the contrary, when well dressed and cheerful you
are very comely indeed; your smile is so pleasant, your teeth are so
white, your hair is still such a pretty light colour. And then you speak
like a young lady, with such a clear, fine tone, and you sing better
than any young lady I ever heard. Why do you wear such dresses and
bonnets, mamma, such as nobody else ever wears?"

"Does it annoy you, Caroline?"

"Very much; it vexes me even. People say you are miserly; and yet you
are not, for you give liberally to the poor and to religious
societies--though your gifts are conveyed so secretly and quietly that
they are known to few except the receivers. But I will be your
lady's-maid myself. When I get a little stronger I will set to work, and
you must be good, mamma, and do as I bid you."

And Caroline, sitting near her mother, rearranged her muslin
handkerchief and resmoothed her hair.

"My own mamma," then she went on, as if pleasing herself with the
thought of their relationship, "who belongs to me, and to whom I belong!
I am a rich girl now. I have something I can love well, and not be
afraid of loving. Mamma, who gave you this little brooch? Let me unpin
it and look at it."

Mrs. Pryor, who usually shrank from meddling fingers and near approach,
allowed t