of father, who sometimes made a mistake in taste, owing to the
misrepresentations of shopkeepers and milliners. While thus engaged
Aunt Mercy came for me, and began to scold when she saw that I had
tumbled my clothes out of the trunk.

"Aunt Mercy, these things are horrid, all of them. Look at this
shawl," and I unrolled a square silk fabric, the color of a sick
orange. "Where did this come from?"

"Saints upon earth!" she exclaimed, "your father bought it at the best
store in New York. It was costly."

"Now tell me, why do the pantalettes of those girls look so graceful?
They do not twirl round the ankle like a rope, as mine do."

"I can't say," she answered, with a sigh. "But you ought to wear long
dresses; now yours are tucked, and could be let down."

"And these red prunella boots--they look like boiled crabs." I put
them on, and walked round the room crab-fashion, till she laughed
hysterically. "Miss Charlotte Alden wears French kid slippers every
day, and I must wear mine."

"No," she said, "you must only wear them to church."

"I shall talk to father about that, when he comes here next."

"Cassy, did Charlotte Alden speak to you to-day?"

"No; but she made an acquaintance by stares."