by late
hours.

I fancy some fruit off our own trees would suit me, for I have no
appetite, and mamma is quite desolate about me. One cannot live on
French cookery without dyspepsia, and one can get nothing simple here,
for food, like everything else, is regulated by the fashion.

Adieu, ma chere, I must dress for church. I only wish you could see my
new hat and go with me, for Lord Rockingham promised to be there.

Adieu, yours eternally, FLORENCE.

"Yes, I do like that better, and I wish I had been in this girl's place,
don't you, Polly?" said Fan, as grandma took off her glasses.

"I should love to go to London, and have a good time, but I don't think
I should care about spending ever so much money, or going to Court.
Maybe I might when I got there, for I do like fun and splendor," added
honest Polly, feeling that pleasure was a very tempting thing.

"Grandma looks tired; let 's go and play in the dwying-woom," said Maud,
who found the conversation getting beyond her depth.

"Let us all kiss and thank grandma, for amusing us so nicely, before
we go," whispered Polly. Maud and Fanny agreed, and grandma looked so
gratified by their thanks, that Tom followed suit, merely waiting till
"those girls" were out of sight, to give the old lady a hearty hug, and
a kiss on the very cheek Lafayette had saluted.

When he reached the play-room Polly was sitting in the swing, saying,
very earnestly, "I always told you it was nice up in grandma's room, and
now you see it is. I wish you 'd go oftener; she admires to have you,
and likes to tell stories and do pleasant things, only she thinks you
don't care for her quiet sort of fun. I do, anyway, and I think she 's
the kindest, best old lady that ever lived, and I love her dearly!"

"I did n't say she was n't, only old people are sort of tedious and
fussy, so I keep out of their way," said Fanny.

"Well, you ought not to, and you miss lots of pleasant times. My mother
says we ought to be kind and patient and respectful to all old folks
just because they are old, and I always mean to be."

"Your mother 's everlastingly preaching," muttered Fan, nettled by the
consciousness of her own shortcomings with regard to grandma.

"She don't preach!" cried Polly, firing up like a flash; "she only
explains things to us, and helps us be good, and never scolds, and I
'd rather have her than any other mother in the world, though she don't
wear velvet cloaks and splendid bonnets, so now!