The Last of the Mortimers

es can when they are young. She had on a velvet jacket, over a thick-corded blue silk dress. She must have spent quite a fortune in dress, the little saucy puss. What startled me, however

before me, laughing, and making her curtsey, with short little curls, like a child’s, scarcely long enough to reach to her collar—all her splendid hair gone—a regular crop! I screamed out, as may be supposed; I declare I could have whipped her with the very best will in the world. The provoking, wicked little creature! no wonder her poor father called her contrairy. Dear,

ou take a delight in vexing your friends. For all the world what good could it do to cut off yo

can’t fancy how nice it is now. Besides, what was the good of such a lot of hair? Don’

cried I, “you never had

cure,” said the wicked little cre

te ignorant of what had happened. Sarah did not start like me, nor scream out; but she looked at little Sara quite composedly, leaning forward to see her all round. When she had quite done, she folded her hands upon her napkin, and smiled. “What a shocking fright you have made of yourself, my dear child,” said Sarah with the most amiable look in the world. Little Sara coloured up in a moment, grew red and f

“but I can’t say I agree with your godmamm

ut my feelings. I never meant it to be

ing at the child in her smiling aggravating way. “People will soon notice the want of it in you, my dear. They will say{21}

y at one speaking. She began to eat her soup when she had done her pleasant remarks. And surely I never did remark before how odd the s’s sounded in her poor lost voice. Somehow they seemed to go hissing round the table, as if every word

d Mr. Cresswell (dear, dear! it is inconceivable how i

s going on in the world. Have you never a new curate at St. John’s to tell us of, and are all the officers just exactly as they used to be? You may all be very superior, you wise people. But I do love gossip, I am fr

rplices, the red-coats are going, I hear. We’re to have a change. The Chestnuts are coming up from Scotland, and our men are ordered to the West Indies. The Colonel doesn’t like it a bit. It’s better fo

he ought to retire,” said I; “there

what is he to do? He has got that poor little widow-daughter of his to keep, and Fred is very unsettled, I’m afraid, and little comfort to

can do it somehow. I wish you luxurious middle-class people would learn the way. But then you don’t stand by each other when you fall into poverty. You drop your friend when he can’t ask you to dinner. You are

,” said Mr. Cresswell, with a smile at my ignorance. “If we

g money is no substitute in the world for saving it. I tell you, the world won’t be what I call right till a gentlema

well; “but I shouldn’t like to be poor myself, nor see Sara tried wi

What if she should mar

oor man, my dear lady

w she would. The dear child would

looking at exactly the same things every day. Godmamma! I do so want my room fresh papered. I know every tint of that{23} pattern, till it makes me quite ill to look at it. Wouldn’t it be a thousand times more reasonable and like a Christian, if papa would stop giving stupid dinners, and taking me to stupid parties, and divide all his money with, say

divide all her money with her neighbours, the extravagant little puss in velvet! But don’t suppose Sara was shamming. She was as thoughtless and as prodigal as