"That would pay the board of the young missionary among the Indians for a long time," I said.
"Hush!" said Aunt Gwendolin impatiently, "do not talk foolishness!"
Perhaps Uncle Theodore thought she shut me up too peremptorily, for he said: "Paying that young man's board out in the West would never be noticed or talked about, my dear; other denominations would pay no attention to it, while this cathedral oak wainscoting—Oh my! Oh my! will excite the admiration and jealousy of the whole city."
"I love beautiful churches," returned my Aunt Gwendolin poutingly. "I shall take Pearl around to see St. George's, where the altar cost five thousand dollars. It will be an education to the girl. A man gave it in memory of his wife, which was a very beautiful thing to do."
"Pooh!" exclaimed my uncle, "why didn't he do something for some poor wretches who need it, in memory of his wife?"
While they had been talking I was looking at the curious, high-crowned, black, shiny hats (a stove-pipe, Uncle Theodore has since told me they ought to be called) which the men all were wearing. They seem to be as essential in America as the queue is in China.
In the afternoon grandmother invited me into her private room to have a quiet talk with her, she said.
"Everything is very new to you, my dear Margaret—Pearl I believe your father called you—in this country, and you must come to me with all your troubling problems. I feel for you, my dear grandchild, and do not fear to say anything, anything at all you feel like saying to me."
She took my small yellow hands in hers, and looked at me lovingly, saying as she gently chafed them that they were very pretty and plump.