"It ought to be, Mr. Busby," said the lady of the house here.
"Ought it? Rotha might put in a demurrer. May I ask why?"
"Circumstances are different, Mr. Busby. That is what I said. Proper dressing must keep a due regard to circumstances."
"Mine among the rest. Now I don't see why a bonnet fit for Antoinette's cousin isn't good enough for Antoinette; and the surplus money in my pocket."
"And you would have your daughter dress like a poor girl?"
"Couldn't do better, in my opinion. That's the way not to become one.
Fetch me your bonnet, Rotha, and let us see what it is like."
Rotha coloured high and sat still. Indeed her aunt said, "Nonsense! do no such thing." But Mr. Busby repeated, "Fetch it, fetch it. We are talking in the abstract; I cannot convict anybody in the abstract."
"But it is Sunday, Mr. Busby."
"Well, my dear, what of that? The better day, the better deed. I am trying to bring you and Antoinette to a more Christian mind in respect of bonnets; that's good work for Sunday. Fetch your bonnet, Rotha."
"Do no such thing, Rotha," said her aunt. "Mr. Busby is playing; he does not mean his words to be taken literally. You would not send her up three pair of stairs to gratify your whim, when another time would do just as well?"