There never was a woman more full of common sense than Mrs. Bertram.  She had quite an appalling amount of this virtue; no one ever heard her say a silly thing; each step she took in life was a wise one, carefully considered, carefully planned out.  She had been a widow now for sis years.  Her husband had nearly come into the family estate, but not quite.  He was the second son, and his eldest brother had died when his heir was a month old.  This heir had cut out Mrs. Bertram’s husband from the family place, with its riches and honors.  He himself had died soon after, and had left his widow with three children and twelve hundred a year.

The children were a son and two daughters.  The son’s name was Loftus, the girls were called Catherine and Mabel.  Loftus was handsome in person, and very every-day in mind.  He was good-natured, but not remarkable for any peculiar strength of character.  His mother had managed to send him to Rugby and Sandhurst, and he had passed into the army with tolerable credit.  He was very fond of his mother, devotedly fond of her, but since he entered the army he certainly contrived to cost her a good deal.

She spoke to him on the subject, believed as much as she chose of his earnest promises to amend, took her own counsel and no one else’s, gave up her neat little house in Kensington, and came to live at Northbury.

Catherine and Mabel did not like this change, but as their mother never dreamt of consulting them, they had to keep their grumbles to themselves.

Mrs. Bertram considered she had taken a wise step, and she told the girls so frankly.  Their house in Kensington was small and expensive.  In the country they had secured a delightful old Manor—­Rosendale Manor was its pretty name—­for a small rent.

Mrs. Bertram found herself comparatively rich in the country, and she cheered the girls by telling them that if they would study economical habits, and try to do with very little dress for the present, she would save some money year by year, so that by the time Catherine was twenty they might have the advantage of a couple of seasons in town.

“Catherine will look very young at twenty,” remarked the mother.  “By that time I shall have saved quite a fair sum out of my income.  Catherine looked younger at twenty than Mabel at eighteen.  They can both come out together, and have their chances like other girls.”

Catherine did not want to wait for the dear delights of society until she had reached so mature an age.  But there was no murmuring against her mother’s decree, and as she was a healthy-minded, handsome, good-humored girl, she soon accommodated herself to the ways and manners of country folk, and was happy enough.