vittles very hearty, so I mistrusted you was
delicate," she said, looking at Emily, whose pale cheeks and weary
eyes told the story of late hours and a gay life.

"I haven't eaten so much for years, I assure you, Mrs. Basset; but
it was impossible to taste all your good things. I am not dyspeptic,
thank you, but a little seedy and tired, for I've been working rather
hard lately."

"Be you a teacher? or have you a 'perfessun,' as they call a trade
nowadays?" asked the old lady in a tone of kindly interest, which
prevented a laugh at the idea of Emily's being anything but a beauty
and a belle. The others kept their countenances with difficulty, and
she answered demurely,--

"I have no trade as yet, but I dare say I should be happier if I had."

"Not a doubt on't, my dear."

"What would you recommend, ma'am?"

"I should say dressmakin' was rather in your line, ain't it? Your
clothes is dreadful tasty, and do you credit if you made 'em
yourself." and Aunt Plumy surveyed with feminine interest the simple
elegance of the travelling dress which was the masterpiece of a French
modiste.

"No, ma'am, I don't make my own things, I'm too lazy. It takes so much
time and trouble to select them that I have only strength left to wear
them."

"Housekeepin' used to be the favorite perfessun in my day. It ain't
fashionable now, but it needs a sight of trainin' to be perfect in all
that's required, and I've an idee it would be a sight healthier and
usefuller than the paintin' and music and fancy work young women do
nowadays."

"But every one wants some beauty in their lives, and each one has a
different sphere to fill, if one can only find it."

"'Pears to me there's no call for so much art when nater is full of
beauty for them that can see and love it. As for 'spears' and so on,
I've a notion if each of us did up our own little chores smart and
thorough we needn't go wanderin' round to set the world to rights.
That's the Lord's job, and I presume to say He can do it without any
advice of ourn."

Something in the homely but true words seemed to rebuke the three
listeners for wasted lives, and for a moment there was no sound but
the crackle of the fire, the brisk click of the old lady's knitting
needles, and Ruth's voice singing overhead as she made ready to join
the party below.

"To judge by that sweet sound you have done one of your 'chores' very
beautifully, Mrs. Basset, and in spite of the follies of our day,
succeede