at once by observing that I was
invited to a ball at Mrs. Dale's a week hence.

"All girls are fools," she answered abruptly, after a moment. I bowed my
head submissively, and awaited the storm.

"I expected better things of you, Virginia," she continued. "I hoped you
were too sensible to follow the herd, and waste the best years of your
life in folly."

"Folly?" I echoed faintly.

"Yes, folly. What else is it but folly to sit up night after night,
until the small hours of the morning, waltzing with brainless young
men?"

"But, Aunty, my father wishes me to go into society."

"Pshaw! What does he know about balls and parties? He is under the thumb
of your Aunt Helen. At your age he was working hard for his living, and
learning to be of use in the world."

"But I have not to earn my living," said I.

"So much the worse for you. Humph! You have found that out, have you?"

I understood that she referred to what my father had told me. "Yes, I
know my father is very rich. If I do not go to parties, how am I to
learn anything about life?"

"Life! You are very simple, child, if you expect to learn what life is
by dancing the German. The first thing we shall hear is, that you are
engaged to some young dandy who is after your fortune. Then you will be
snuffed out. You will become a fashionable simpleton, who goes to bed at
four and gets up at noon. Life, indeed!"

This cruel insinuation, following so soon upon what I had lately heard,
cut like a knife. I answered firmly,--

"My father has already warned me to be on my guard against insincere
persons."

"Much good a warning would do, if you were to take it into your head to
like anybody! Tell _me_! I may not understand girls" (this was a thrust
at Aunt Helen), "but I know the dispositions of my own family. When a
Harlan gets a fixed idea, it takes a deal of pounding to drive it out;
and you're a Harlan, Virginia, if there ever was one."

This last reflection seemed to console her a little, or at least to
suggest the futility of trying to alter my determination; for after
speaking of other matters for a few moments she exclaimed,--

"Well! girls will be girls, I suppose, to the end of time,"--and rising
she went to an escritoire and took out a small parcel, which it was
evident she had intended to present to me from the first. "There,
Virginia, if you are bent on being frivolous, is a bit of old lace that
your Aunt Helen, or anybody else, would have to hunt a lo