Mr. Hardcastle, "it stands to reason children should
learn to like what their elders have liked before them. That's the only
decent and Christian way of living. And as I said to my son,--to my Dick,
you know" (Mr. Hardcastle had a son of whom he always spoke as if sole
owner of him, and indeed solely responsible for his being),--"'Dick,' I
said, when he spoke disrespectfully of Mr. Webb's prayers,--and Mr. Webb
is a powerful prayer-maker, to be sure,--'Dick,' I said, 'church is like
physic, and the more you don't like it, the more good it does you. And if
you think Mr. Webb's prayers are too long, it's a sign that for your
soul's salvation they ought to be longer.' And I said--"

Mrs. Lane knew by long experience that now or never was the time to stop
Mr. Hardcastle. Once fairly started on the subject of his supposed advice
to Dick on any given occasion, there was no arresting his eloquence. She
started up abruptly from her sewing-machine with her mouth full of pins,
emptying them into her hand as she went. "Those ginger-cookies--" she
mumbled as she passed Mr. Hardcastle. "They ought to be done by this."

A promissory fragrance caught the old gentleman's nostrils as she opened
the door, dispelling sterner thoughts. "Ah," he said, sniffing the air
with evident approbation, "I was about going, but I don't mind if I stay
and try a few. Your make, Phebe?"

"No," answered Phebe, shortly, moving just out of reach of the bland old
hand, which stretched itself out to chuck her under the chin, and was
left patting the air with infinite benevolence "mother made them."

"All wrong," commented Mrs. Upjohn. "All wrong. You should not leave your
mother any work that you could spare her. One of the first things I
taught our Maria" (Mrs. Upjohn in Mr. Hardcastle's presence always said
_our_ Maria with great distinctness),--"one of the first things I taught
her was, that it was her privilege to save me in every thing. I don't
believe in idleness for girls. Aren't you ready yet to attend to these
crewels, Phebe? Miss Brooks is snarling them terribly."

"Phebe's really a very good girl in her way though," remarked Mrs.
Hardcastle, indulgently, from her easy chair. "I will testify that she
can make quite eatable cake at a pinch."

Phebe secretly thought Mrs. Hardcastle ought to know. She remembered her
once spoiling a new-made company loaf by slashing into it without so much
as a by-your-leave.

"That was very nice cake Miss Lynch