"As I said—one can't always tell what will come to pass, nor how much need you may have for your money. But I'm thankful my heart is not set on the pomps and vanities of this world. And children ought to be brought up to some useful habits."
It was a fact that Cynthia did not take to the useful branches of womanly living. She abhorred hemming—and such work as she made of it! Miss Eunice groaned over it.
"But you ought to have seen what I did two or three weeks ago," and she laughed with a gay ring. "Such stitches! When I made them nice on the top, they were dreadful underneath, and the cotton thread was almost black. What is the use of taking such little bits of stitches?"
"Why—they look prettier. And—it is the right thing to do."
"But you know Rachel can hem all the ruffles. And Cousin Elizabeth said ruffles were vanity. I'd like my frocks just as well to be plain."
"There would have to be nice stitches in the hem."
"Rachel didn't sew when she was little. A great lady took her to Scotland, to wait on her, to get her shawl when she was a little cool, and fan her when she was warm, and carry messages, and drive out in the carriage with her. They had servants for everything. And then—she was ten years old—she sent her to a school, where she learned everything. But she doesn't know all the tables and a great many other things."
"But she knows what fits her for her station in life."
Cynthia looked puzzled. "What is your station in life?" she asked with an accent of curiosity.
"Oh, child, it is where you are placed; and the work of life is the duties that grow out of it—and your duty towards God."