n of Independence, and Aunt Pen must be
ready for a Revolution, if she taxes me too heavily."

As she leaned her hot cheek on her arm, Debby's eye fell on the quaint
little cap made by the motherly hands that never were tired of working
for her. She touched it tenderly, and love's simple magic swept the
gathering shadows from her face, and left it clear again, as her
thoughts flew home like birds into the shelter of their nest.

"Good night, mother! I'll face temptation steadily. I'll try to take
life cheerily, and do nothing that shall make your dear face a reproach,
when it looks into my own again."

Then Debby said her prayers like any pious child, and lay down to dream
of pulling buttercups with Baby Bess, and sinking in the twilight on her
father's knee.

* * * * *

The history of Debby's first day might serve as a sample of most that
followed, as week after week went by with varying pleasures and
increasing interest to more than one young _debutante_. Mrs. Carroll did
her best, but Debby was too simple for a belle, too honest for a flirt,
too independent for a fine lady; she would be nothing but her sturdy
little self, open as daylight, gay as a lark, and blunt as any Puritan.
Poor Aunt Pen was in despair, till she observed that the girl often
"took" with the very peculiarities which she was lamenting; this
somewhat consoled her, and she tried to make the best of the pretty bit
of homespun which would not and could not become velvet or brocade.
Seguin, Ellenborough, & Co. looked with lordly scorn upon her, as a worm
blind to their attractions. Miss MacFlimsy and her "set" quizzed her
unmercifully behind her back, after being worsted in several passages of
arms; and more than one successful mamma condoled with Aunt Pen upon the
terribly defective education of her charge, till that stout matron could
have found it in her heart to tweak off their caps and walk on them,
like the irascible Betsey Trotwood.

But Debby had a circle of admirers who loved her with a sincerity few
summer queens could boast; for they were real friends, won by gentle
arts, and retained by the gracious sweetness of her nature. Moon-faced
babies crowed and clapped their chubby hands when she passed by their
wicker thrones; story-loving children clustered round her knee, and
never were denied; pale invalids found wild-flowers on their pillows;
and forlorn papas forgot the state of the money-market when she sa