'Oh goodness, Lucia, how you do run on! Now do you think I care a straw for what men may think of me! As for my stays, poor mamma bought them for me, and I think she was a good enough judge of what I required.'

'Ah! Bless you, Susan, dear! Now I would not mind betting that, had poor Aunt Maria lived to see you in society, she would soon have looked to your being dressed so as to show off all your lovely points to advantage.'

'But suppose I don't care for society, and never wish to go into it?'

'Oh, but Susan! You are talking of what you know nothing about. In a girl like you society means great admiration, and who is there who does not like to be admired?'

'Well, I don't care about it for one!'

'My dear child, for you are a child and nothing else in spite of all your science and botany and stuff, you have been so buried here, that unknown to yourself, you have grown up in complete ignorance that there is a world of men and women about you, and that some day, perhaps not far off now, you will have to take your place in that world. When you do, you will, I venture to prophesy, very soon find out what a charm there is in being admired. But, as I asked you before, are there no young men in these parts?'

'No, Lucia, I don't believe there are. We lived so very quietly, that I suppose if there are any such creatures, they never found us out. Our parish is quite a small one, and, as you may have seen in church, there are very few people in it, and no gentry. Papa used to be called “The Squire.”

'And you actually contemplate without horror the idea of living here by yourself all your life?'

'Oh, no! I hope you will come sometimes and see me, Lucia. I shall ask Gladys, too. Besides, I have old Martha, and I have my birds, and beasts and flowers in the summer; my piano and my books in the winter, and my poor people to look after. You have no idea of how very busy I am usually.'