ll, there's one comfort," said I; "Mrs. White will never wear it."

"Nor anybody else," said Louisa.

Still we did feel a little nervous about it; there is never any
estimating the influence of a reformer. However, we were sure of
ourselves. Louisa and I agreed that we never would be seen out in any
such costume. Not very many in the village were. There were a few
women, who were under the influence of Mrs. Jameson, who did cut off
some of their old dresses and make themselves some leggings with hers
for a pattern. After their housework was done they started off for
long tramps with strides of independence and defiance, but they did
not keep it up very long; none of them after Mrs. Jameson went away.
To tell the truth, most of the women in our village had so much work
to do, since they kept no servants, that they could not take many
ten-mile walks, no matter what length skirts they wore. However, many
wore the short ones while doing housework, which was very sensible.

During that morning call, Mrs. Jameson, besides the reformed costume,
advocated another innovation which fairly took our breaths away.
She was going to beautify the village. We had always considered the
village beautiful as it was, and we bridled a little at that.

"There is scarcely a house in this village which is overgrown with
vines," said she. "I am going to introduce vines."

Louisa ventured to say that she thought vines very pretty, but she
knew some people objected to them on the score of spiders, and also
thought that they were bad for the paint. We poor, frugal village
folk have always to consider whether beauty will trespass on utility,
and consequently dollars and cents. There are many innocent slaves to
Mammon in our midst.

Mrs. Jameson sniffed in her intensely scornful way. "Spiders and
paint!" said she. "I am going to have the houses of this village
vine-clad. It is time that the people were educated in beauty."

"People won't like it if she does go to planting vines around their
houses without their permission, even if she does mean well," said
Louisa after she had gone.

"She never will dare to without their permission," said I; but I
wondered while I spoke, and Louisa laughed.

"Don't you be too sure of that," said she--and she was right.

Permission in a few cases Mrs. Jameson asked, and in the rest she
assumed. Old Jonas Martin ransacked the woods for vines--clematis and
woodbine--then he, with Mrs. Jameson to superintend,