Her preachings on economy were a constant source of amusement to my father. I made up my mind at an early age, after listening to his chaff, that money was the most overrated of all anxieties; and not only has nothing occurred in my long experience to make me alter this opinion but everything has tended to reinforce it.
In discussing matrimony my father would say:
"I'm sure I hope, girls, you'll not marry penniless men; men should not marry at all unless they can keep their wives,' etc.
To this my mother would retort:
"Do not listen to your father, children! Marrying for money has never yet made any one happy; it is not blessed."
Mamma had no illusions about her children nor about anything else; her mild criticisms of the family balanced my father's obsessions. When Charty's looks were praised, she would answer with a fine smile:
"Tant soit peu mouton!"
She thought us all very plain, how plain I only discovered by overhearing the following conversation.
I was seventeen and, a few days after my return from Dresden, I was writing behind the drawing room screen in London, when an elderly Scotch lady came to see my mother; she was shown into the room by the footman and after shaking hands said:
"What a handsome house this is. …"