O, this unlucky concentrativeness! How many shocking things a man may indorse by the simple habit of saying "Yes" and "No," when he is not hearing what is said to him.
The next morning, when William was gone to the academy, and Mary was washing the breakfast things, Aunt Abigail introduced the subject with great tact and delicacy by remarking.—
"Mary, I guess you had better be rather less free with William than you have been."
"Free!" said Mary, starting, and nearly dropping the cup from her hand; "why, aunt, what do you mean?"
"Why, Mary, you must not always be around so free in talking with him, at home, and in company, and every where. It won't do." The color started into Mary's cheek, and mounted even to her forehead, as she answered with a dignified air,—
"I have not been too free; I know what is right and proper; I have not been doing any thing that was improper."
Now, when one is going to give advice, it is very troublesome to have its necessity thus called in question; and Mrs. Abigail, who was fond of her own opinion, felt called upon to defend it.
"Why, yes, you have, Mary; every body in the village notices it."
"I don't care what every body in the village says. I shall always do what I think proper," retorted the young lady; "I know Cousin William does not think so."
"Well, I think he does, from some things I have heard him say."