"But she had no right to it," said Mrs. Brown, in a sharp tone.
"Of course not. But, you see, she always has had the new frocks, and she thinks she always must. Now, it seems to me that through this and other little things we have spoiled her a good deal, and now, the thing is, how are we to undo the mischief?"
"Not by giving way to her in this, for that will make matters worse," said Mrs. Brown, promptly.
"Yes, I see that well enough; but how are we to make her see it, and yet convince her that we love her just as dearly now as when she had the new frocks, and Eliza those she had outgrown?"
His wife shook her head as she recalled the talk she had with Fanny the evening of her first holiday.
"It would not be so difficult if she were different," she said, more to herself than to her husband.
"Different?" he repeated.
He was very proud of Fanny. People had called her "a bonny girl," "a winsome lassie," and friends always noticed her, and he did not like even his wife finding fault with her.
"Different," he repeated again. "What would you have, mother?"
"Well, we have been partly to blame, no doubt, but our Fanny has grown very selfish and wilful. I did not notice it while she was at home, but things have happened since she has been away that has brought out very clearly the faults that were hidden before, and I was quite upset when I first found it out."