"Do I? I believe I do."

"You are eighteen; you are too old to go to school."

"But I am not too old to have an agreeable time; besides, I am not
eighteen, and shall not be till four days from now."

"You think too much of having a good time, Cassandra," said mother. "I
foresee the day when the pitcher will come back from the well broken.
You are idle and frivolous; eternally chasing after amusement."

"God knows I don't find it."

"I know you are not happy."

"Tell me," I cried, striking the table with my hand, making Veronica
wink, "tell me how to feel and act."

"I have no influence with you, nor with Veronica."

"Because," said Verry, "we are all so different; but I like you,
mother, and all that you do."

"Different!" she exclaimed, "children talk to parents about a
difference between them."

"I never thought about it before." I said, "but _where_ is the family
likeness?"

Aunt Merce laughed.