confess," said Fleda, gravely. "How very ungracefully and
stiffly those are made up!"

"My dear little Queechy rose," said Constance, impatiently,
"you are, pardon me, as fresh as possible. They can't cut the
flowers with long stems, you know; the gardeners would be
ruined. That is perfectly elegant; it must have cost at least
ten dollars. My dear little Fleda!" said Constance, capering
off before the long pier-glass, "I am afraid I am not
captivating! Do you think it would be an improvement if I put
drops in my ears? — or one curl behind them? I don't know
which Mr. Carleton likes best!" —

And with her head first on one side and then on the other, she
stood before the glass looking at herself and Fleda by turns
with such a comic expression of mock doubt and anxiety, that
no gravity but her own could stand it.

"She is a silly girl, Fleda, isn't she?" said Mrs. Evelyn,
coming up behind them.

"Mamma! am I captivating?" cried Constance, wheeling round.

The mother's smile said "Very!"

"Fleda is wishing she were out of the sphere of my influence,
Mamma. Wasn't Mr. Olmney afraid of my corrupting you?" she
said, with a sudden pull-up in front of Fleda. "My blessed
stars! there's somebody's voice I know. Well, I believe it is
true that a rose without thorns is a desideratum. Mamma, is