hand, that I was quite a studious character. Aunt Henshaw remained a
week or two; and though not exactly sick, I remained thin and drooping,
and seemed to get no stronger as the season advanced. The state of my
health was canvassed over and over again in the family circle; and one
day, when they were all gazing upon me with anxious solicitude, and
remarking upon my pale cheeks, Aunt Henshaw observed: "She needs a
change of air, poor child! She must go home with me."




CHAPTER X.

I was quite surprised at the effect which this remark produced. Although
an only daughter, I had never been much caressed at home--I was always
so troublesome that they loved me best at a distance. If I happened to
get into the library with my father, I was sure to upset the inkstand,
or shake the table where he sat writing--or if admitted to my mother's
apartment, I made sad havoc with her work-basket, and was very apt to
clip up cut out articles with my little scissors--which said scissors I
regarded with the greatest affection; in the first place because they
were my own private property, and in the next place, they afforded me
the delightful pleasure of clipping--that great enjoyment of childhood;
but they did so much mischief that complaints against them were loud
and long, and I quite trembled at an oft-repeated threat of taking them
away.

My mother evidently disapproved of Aunt Henshaw's proposal, and my
father drawing me towards him affectionately, said: "I am afraid we
could not part with our little madcap--we should miss her noise sadly."