After I went home I examined myself in the glass, and drew an unfavorable conclusion from the inspection.  My hair was parted zigzag; one shoulder was higher than the other; my dress came up to my chin, and slipped down to my shoulder-blades.  I was all waist; no hips were developed my hands were red, and my nails chipped.  I opened the trunk where my wardrobe was packed; what belonged to me was comfortable, in reference to weather and the wash, but not pretty.  I found a molasses-colored silk, called Turk satin—­one of mother’s old dresses, made over for me, or an invidious selection of hers from the purchases of father, who sometimes made a mistake in taste, owing to the misrepresentations of shopkeepers and milliners.  While thus engaged Aunt Mercy came for me, and began to scold when she saw that I had tumbled my clothes out of the trunk.

“Aunt Mercy, these things are horrid, all of them.  Look at this shawl,” and I unrolled a square silk fabric, the color of a sick orange.  “Where did this come from?”

“Saints upon earth!” she exclaimed, “your father bought it at the best store in New York.  It was costly.”

“Now tell me, why do the pantalettes of those girls look so graceful?  They do not twirl round the ankle like a rope, as mine do.”

“I can’t say,” she answered, with a sigh.  “But you ought to wear long dresses; now yours are tucked, and could be let down.”

“And these red prunella boots—­they look like boiled crabs.”  I put them on, and walked round the room crab-fashion, till she laughed hysterically.  “Miss Charlotte Alden wears French kid slippers every day, and I must wear mine.”

“No,” she said, “you must only wear them to church.”

“I shall talk to father about that, when he comes here next.”

“Cassy, did Charlotte Alden speak to you to-day?”

“No; but she made an acquaintance by stares.”

“Well, never mind her if she says anything unpleasant to you; the Aldens are a high set.”

“Are they higher than we are in Surrey?  Have they heard of my father, who is equal to the President?”

“We are all equal in the sight of God.”

“You do not look as if you thought so, Aunt Mercy.  Why do you say things in Barmouth you never said in Surrey?”

“Come downstairs, Cassandra, and help me finish the dishes.”

Our conversation was ended; but I still had my thoughts on the clothes question, and revolved my plans.

After the morning exercises the next day, Miss Black called me in to her desk.  “I think,” she said, “you had better study Geology.  It is important, for it will lead your mind up from nature to nature’s God.  My young ladies have finished their studies in that direction; therefore you will recite alone, once a day.”