The two conversed together for some minutes; Mildred sitting silently by. They were speaking of the weather, then of some common acquaintance of whom she knew nothing, and not feeling interested she half unconsciously suffered her eyes to wander about the room.
"You do not find much to admire here?" Mrs. Landreth said, interrogatively, turning abruptly to her. "There are no pretty trifles scattered here and there as at Roselands."
"I admire that painting over the mantel exceedingly," Mildred answered with a blush, and turning her gaze upon it again; "such a lovely, sunny landscape! it gives one a restful feeling just to look at it."
"Yes, it is a fine painting, but I have often told my husband that I think he committed a sin in putting so much money into an unnecessary luxury; something we could do perfectly well without. The Bible bids us be content with food and raiment; and we ought not to indulge ourselves in anything more; or to spend much on them while there are so many deserving objects of charity in the world. That is why you find me so plain in my attire and in the furnishing of my house.
"Mr. Landreth holds different views and would like house and wife to look as well as those of his neighbors, as he often says; but I must act according to the dictates of my conscience."
"But don't you think it a duty to try to please your husband and make his home attractive?" Mildred asked modestly. "I know my mother considers it hers and her great pleasure also."
"Quite natural then that you should; but doubtless I am an older woman than she; and years should teach wisdom," rejoined Mrs. Landreth, somewhat loftily.
"Yes, madam, I suppose they should, but do you think people are always wise just in proportion to their age?"
"Of course not always. Mr. Landreth is older than I.
"But now to return to the original topic. We are taught that we ought to practice self-denial and to give liberally to the poor. The interest of the money paid for that picture (five thousand dollars) would enable me to largely increase my benefactions, if I had it. And besides how much useful work the artist might have done in the time he spent—wasted one may well say—in painting it."