"She's handsome," suggested Mr. Livingstone.

"Pshaw! handsome!" repeated his wife, scornfully, while he replied,
"Yes, handsomer than either of our daughters, and with the same
advantages, I've no doubt she'd surpass them both."

"Those advantages, then, she shall never have," returned Mrs.
Livingstone, already jealous of a child she had only seen at a
distance.

Mr. Livingstone made no reply, but felt that he'd made a mistake in
praising 'Lena, in whom he began to feel a degree of interest for
which he could not account. He did not know that way down in the
depths of his heart, calloused over as it was by worldly selfishness,
there was yet a tender spot, a lingering memory of his only sister
whom 'Lena so strongly resembled. If left to himself, he would
undoubtedly have taken pride in seeing his niece improve, and as it
was, he determined that she should at home receive the same
instruction that his daughters did. Perhaps he might not send her
away to school. He didn't know how that would be--his wife held the
purse, and taking refuge behind that excuse, he for the present
dismissed the subject. (So much for marrying a _rich_ wife and
nothing else. This we throw in gratis!)

Meantime grandma had returned to her room, at the door of which she
found John Jr. and Carrie, both curious to know what was in those
boxes, one of which had burst open and been tied up with a rope.

"Come, children," said she, "don't stay out there--come in."