rong, but not customary. Servants are expected to say 'sir' and
'ma'am' to their employers as a mark of respect; and people not servants
use the word less frequently than they formerly did. They keep such
terms for elderly or distinguished persons, to whom they wish to show
special deference."

"But Aunt Myra always _made_ me say 'sir' and 'ma'am' to her and
grandpapa. She said it was impolite not to."

"She was quite right; for she and your grandfather were a great deal
older than yourself, and it was only respectful to address them so. But
you need not use the phrase to everybody to whom you speak."

"Not to you?"

"Well, I would quite as soon that in speaking to me you said, 'Yes,
Cousin Kate,' as 'Yes, ma'am.' That is what I have taught my children to
do. They say, 'Yes, mamma;' 'Did you call me, papa?' I like the sound
of it better; but it is only a matter of taste. There is no real right
or wrong involved in it."

Candace sat for a moment in silence, revolving these new ideas in her
mind.

"Cousin Kate," she said timidly, "will you tell me when I make little
mistakes, like that about the knife? I'd like to learn to do things
right if I could, and if it wouldn't trouble you too much."

"Dear Cannie,"--and Mrs. Gray kissed her,--"I will, of course; and I am
glad you like to have me. Your mother was the sweetest, most refined
little lady that I ever knew. I loved her dearly; and I should love to
treat you as I do my own girls, to whom I have to give a hint or a
caution or a little lecture almost every day of their lives. No girl
ever grew into a graceful, well-bred woman without many such small
lessons from somebody. If your mother had lived, all these things would
have come naturally to you from the mere fact of being with her and
noticing what she did. You would have needed no help from any one else.
But are you sure," she went on, after a little pause, "that you won't
end by thinking me tiresome or interfering or worrisome, if I do as I
say?"

"No, indeed, I won't!" cried Candace, to whom this long talk had been
like the clearing up after a thunder-shower. "I think it would be _too_
mean if I felt that way when you are so kind."

CHAPTER III.

A WALK ON THE CLIFFS.

IT is always an odd, unhomelike moment when one wakes up for the first
time in a new place. Sleep is a separation between us and all that has
gone before it. It takes a little while to recollect where we are and
how we came there