"Which is the good-looking one?"

"Oh, your Aunt Em'ly, o' course. Nobody ain't ever accused S'renie or
Keren-Happuch o' bein' sinfully beautiful, fur's I know."

My Aunt Em'ly was invested for me with a new interest. Perhaps some day I
might take after her and grow equally well-favoured. I did not remember
having noticed that she was beautiful, and resolved to study her at the
first opportunity.



CHAPTER II.


A SUNDAY-SCHOOL LESSON.

Going to church was a good old New England custom that in our family had
borne transplanting to the West. Sunday was almost the pleasantest day in
the week to me--not elbowing school-less Saturday from its throne; not of
course even comparing with the bliss of Friday just after school, but
easily surpassing the procession of four dull, dreaded, droning days the
ogre Monday led.

The beauty and fragrance of the summer Sabbath began in the early morning,
when I went out into the garden, before putting on my Sunday frock, and
picked a quantity of the old-fashioned flowers that grew there. I arranged
them in two flat bouquets, with tall gladiolus stalks behind and smaller
growths ranging down in front so that they might see and be seen, peeping
over each other's heads, when placed against the wall in church.