children have not been taught from their earliest years that the great
privilege of possession is the right to bestow, may regard this as an
improbable assertion; but others will know that it might well enough be
true, even if I did not say that so it was. But there was always the choice
of some individual treat, which was determined solely by the preference of
the individual in authority. Constance had chosen "a long ride with papa."

I suppose a parent may sometimes be right when he speaks with admiration of
his own children. The probability of his being correct is to be determined
by the amount of capacity he has for admiring other people's children.
However this may be in my own case, I venture to assert that Constance did
look very lovely that morning. She was fresh as the young day: we were
early people--breakfast and prayers were over, and it was nine o'clock as
she stood on the steps and I approached her from the lawn.

"O, papa! isn't it jolly?" she said merrily.

"Very jolly indeed, my dear," I answered, delighted to hear the word from
the lips of my gentle daughter. She very seldom used a slang word, and when
she did, she used it like a lady. Shall I tell you what she was like? Ah!
you could not see her as I saw her that morning if I did. I will, however,
try to give you a general idea, just in order that you and I should not be
picturing to ourselves two very different persons while I speak of her.

She was rather little, and so slight that she looked tall. I have often
observed that the impression of height is an affair of proportion, and has
nothing to do with feet and inches. She was rather fair in complexion,
with her mother's blue eyes, and her mother's long dark wavy hair. She
was generally playful, and took greater liberties with me than any of the
others; only with her liberties, as with her slang, she knew instinctively