oor behind the little girl opened, and a
lady said reprovingly:--

"Sally, Sally, haven't I told you to keep away from the kitchen?"

"Oh, Aunt Mitty, I had to come for my plum cake," pleaded Sally, "and
Aunt Matoaca said that I might."

An elderly lady, all soft black and old yellow lace, stood in the
doorway. Then before she could answer a second one appeared at her side,
and I had a vision of two slender maidenly figures, who reminded me,
meek heads, drooping faces, and creamy lace caps, of the wallflowers in
the border outside blooming in a patch of sunshine close against the old
grey house. At first there seemed to me to be no visible difference
between them, but after a minute, I saw that the second one was gentler
and smaller, with a softer smile and a more shrinking manner.

"It was my fault, Sister Mitty," she said, "I told Sally that she might
come after her plum cake."

Her voice was so low and mild that I was amazed the next instant to hear
the taller lady respond.

"Of course, Sister Matoaca, you were at liberty to do as you thought
right, but I cannot conceal from you that I consider a person of your
dangerous views an unsafe guardian for a young girl."

She advanced a step into the kitchen, and as Miss Matoaca followed her
she replied in an abashed and faltering voice:--

"I am sorry, Sister Mitty, that we do not agree in our principles. There
is nothing else that I will not sacrifice to you, but when a question of
principle is concerned, however painful it is to me, I must be firm."

At this, while I was wondering what terrible thing a principle could
possibly turn out to be, I saw Miss Mitty draw herself up until she
fairly towered like a marble column about the shrinking figure in front
of her.

"But such principles, Sister Matoaca!" she exclaimed.

A flush rose to the clear brown surface of the little lady's cheek, and
more than ever, I thought, she resembled one of the wallflowers in the
border outside. Her head, with its shiny parting of soft chestnut hair,
was lifted with a mild, yet spirited gesture, and I saw the delicate
lace at her throat and wrists tremble as if a faint wind had passed.

"Remember, sister, that my ancestors as well as yours fought against
oppression in three wars," she said in her sweet low voice that had, to
my ears, the sound of a silver bell, "and it has become my painful duty,
after long deliberation with my conscience, to inform you--I consider
that taxation