"Well, I do not see, Aunt Kitty, how anybody can be more generous than to give away their playthings, and their books, and their money."
At this moment Harriet entered the room. Mary, from thinking that I was opposed to her in opinion, had become very much in earnest on the subject, and she called out, "I am very glad you are come, Harriet. Only think, Aunt Kitty does not think Florence is generous. Now Harriet, is she not generous—is she not very generous?"
"I do not know, Mary,—sometimes she is, but I did not think she was the other day, when she would not give her ripe plum to that poor sick child who wanted it so much."
Mary colored; "But, Harriet, I am sure the wooden horse she gave him was worth more than a dozen plums."
"I dare say it was, Mary, but the child did not want that."
Mary became now a little angry, as she was apt to do when she could not convince those with whom she was arguing.
"Well, Harriet, I think it is very unkind in you to speak so of Florence, and to say she is not generous, when she thinks so much of you."
"Stop, stop, Mary," said I, "you are now as unjust to Harriet as you accuse her of being to Florence. She did not say that Florence was not generous, but only that she had not made up her mind on that subject, that she had not seen enough to convince her that she was; and this, remember, was all which I said. Florence may be as generous as you think her, but you have not told me enough to convince me of it. When we have known her longer we shall all be able to judge better what she is. In the mean time I am very glad you like her, for I am very much interested in her myself."
"Well, Aunt Kitty, I do like her," said Mary, in a very energetic manner, "and I am sure I shall never be any better able to judge her than I am now."
I made no reply, and the conversation ended.