friends of her childhood. The refinement that was like an atmosphere
around Mrs. Frost, seemed to have extended even to her servants; for
Jane, though she could hardly read, and carried her accounts in her
head, had manners of a gentle warmth and propriety that had a grace
of their own, even in her racy, bad grammar; and there was no
withstanding the merry smile that twitched up one side of her mouth,
while her eyes twinkled in the varied moods prompted by an
inexhaustible fund of good temper, sympathy, and affection, but the
fulness of her love was for the distant 'Master Oliver,' whose young
nursery-maid she had been. Her eyes winked between tears and smiles
when she heard that Miss Mary had seen him but five months ago, and
she inquired after him, gloried in his prosperity, and talked of his
coming home, with far less reserve than his mother had done.

Mary was struck, also, with the pretty, modest looks of the little
underling, and remarked on them as they proceeded to the inspection
of the next house.

'Yes,' said Louis, 'Charlotte is something between a wood sorrel and
a five-plume moth. Tom Madison, as usual, shows exquisite taste.
She is a perfect Lady of Eschalott.'

'Now, Louis!' said his aunt, standing still, and really looking
annoyed, 'you know I cannot encourage any such thing. Poor little
Charlotte is an orphan, and I am all the more responsible for her.'

'There's a chivalry in poor Tom--'

'Nonsense!' said his aunt, as if resolved not to hear him out,
because afraid of herself. 'Don't say any more about it. I wish I