do you?" asked Madam, still holding her by the chin. "No'm; not quite."

17. "Well, dear, I'll tell you. In my day, children of fourteen and
fifteen did n't dress in the height of the fashion; go to parties as
nearly like those of grown people as it's possible to make them; lead
idle, giddy, unhealthy lives, and get blase' at twenty. We were little
folks till eighteen or so; worked and studied, dressed and played, like
children; honored our parents; and our days were much longer in the land
than now, it seems to me."

18. The old lady appeared to forget Polly, at the end of her speech; for
she sat patting the plump little hand that lay in her own, and looking up
at a faded picture of an old gentleman with a ruffled shirt and a queue.
"Was he your father, Madam?"

19. "Yes, my dear; my honored father. I did up his frills to the day of
his death; and the first money I ever earned, was five dollars which he
offered as a prize to whichever of his six girls would lay the handsomest
darn in his silk stockings."

20. "How proud you must have been!" cried Polly, leaning on the old lady's
knee with an interested face.

21. "Yes; and we all learned to make bread, and cook, and wore little
chintz gowns, and were as gay and hearty as kittens. All lived to be
grandmothers; and I'm the last--seventy next birthday, my dear, and not
worn out yet; though daughter Shaw is an invalid at forty."

22. "That's the way I was brought up, and that's why Fan calls me
old-fashioned, I suppose. Tell more about your papa, please; I like it,"