own age went. I promised him to go, wondering whether I should meet an
ancient beau, Joe Bacon. Mother retired; Verry still played.

"Her talent is wonderful," said father, taking the cigar from his
mouth. "By the way, you must take lessons in Milford; I wish you would
learn to sing." I acquiesced, but I had no wish to learn to play. I
could never perform mechanically what I heard now from Verry. When she
ceased, I woke from a dream, chaotic, but not tumultuous, beautiful,
but inharmonious. Though the fire had gone out, the lamps winked
brightly, and father, moving his cigar to the other side of his mouth,
changed his regards from one lamp to the other, and said he thought
I was growing to be an attractive girl. He asked me if I would take
pains to make myself an accomplished one also? I must, of course, be
left to myself in many things; but he hoped that I would confide in
him, if I did not ask his advice. A very strong relation of reserve
generally existed between parent and child, instead of a confidential
one, and the child was apt to discover that reserve on the part of the
parent was not superiority, but cowardice, or indifference. "Let it
not be so with us," was his conclusion. He threw away the stump of
his cigar, and went to fasten the hall-door. I took one of the brass
lamps, proposing to go to bed. As I passed through the upper entry,
Veronica opened her door. She was undressed, and had a little book
in her hand, which she shook at me, saying, "There is the day of the
month put down on which you came home; and now mind," then shut the
door. I pondered over what father had said; he had perceived something
in me which I was not aware of. I resolved to think seriously over it;
in the morning I found I had not thought of it at all.