"Is she very stupid, do you think?" asked Johanna, in unconscious appeal to her pet's stronger judgment.
"No, I don't. Far from stupid; only very ignorant, and—you would hardly believe it—very nervous. Selina frightens her. She gets on extremely well with me."
"Any one would, my dear. That is," added the conscientious elder sister, still afraid of making the "child" vain, "any one whom you took pain with. But do you think you can ever make any thing out of Elizabeth? Her month ends to-morrow. Shall we let her go?"
"And perhaps get in her place a story-teller—a tale-bearer—even a thief. No, no; let us
'Rather bear the ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of;'
and a thief would be worse than even a South Sea Islander."
"Oh yes, my dear," said Johanna, with a shiver.
"By-the-by, the first step in the civilization of the Polynesians was giving them clothes. And I have heard say that crime and rags often go together; that a man unconsciously feels that he owes something to himself and society in the way of virtue when he has a clean face and clean shirt, and a decent coat on. Suppose we try the experiment of dressing Elizabeth. How many old gowns have we?"
The number was few. Nothing in the Leaf family was ever cast off till its very last extremity of decay; the talent that
"Gars auld claes look amaist as gude's the new"