ourselves. Mammie, if
you will make the tea, we will just tidy up, and look out the patterns
for you to match the trimmings and buttons to-morrow;" for this same
business of matching was rather hailed by Mrs. Challoner as a relief
and amusement.

Phillis grumbled a little over this additional labor, though, at the
same time, no one worked harder than she; but she was careful to
explain that it was her right, as a freeborn Britoness, to grumble,
and that it was as much a relief to her peculiar constitution as a
good long yawn is to some people.

"And it answers two purposes," as she observed; "for it airs the
lungs, and relieves the mind, and no one takes any more notice than if
I set the wind blowing. And thankful I am, and every mother's child of
us, that Dorothy is approaching this room with her dust-pan and brush.
Dorothy, I have a nice little sum for you to do. How many snippets of
green and black silk go to a dust-pan? Count them, and subtract all
the tacking-thread, and Dulce's pins."

"Phillis, you are just feverish from overfatigue and sitting so long
in one place, for you are used to running about." And Nan took her by
the shoulders, and marched her playfully to the small parlor, where
Mrs. Challoner was waiting for them.

"Come, girls!" she said, cheerfully. "Dorothy has baked your favorite
little cakes, and there are new-laid eggs for those who are hungry;
and I am sure you all earned your tea, darlings. And, oh, Phillis! how
tired you look!" And Mrs. Challoner looked round on each face in turn,
in the unwise but loving way of mothers.

This was too much for Phillis; and she interlaced her fingers and put
them suddenly and sternly over her mother's eyes.

"Now, mammie, promise."

"Phillis, my dear, how can you be so absurd!" but Mrs. Challoner
strove in vain to release herself. Phillis's fingers had iron tenacity
in them when she chose.

"A thing like this must be nipped in the bud," pronounced Phillis,
apostrophizing her laughing sisters. "You must not look at us in that
fashion every evening, as though we were sheep in a pen, or rabbits
for sale. You will be weighing us next; and my nerves will not stand
it. No, mother; here I strike. I will not be looked at in that
manner."

"But, Phillis--Oh, you nonsensical child!"

"Personal remarks are to be tabooed from this moment. You must not
say, 'How tired you look!' or 'How pale you are!' It is not manners at
the Friary, and it is demoralizing. I a