'I know how glad my aunt will be to hear this good news,' said Clara; 'and she has sent one of the night-shirts that we have made; I dare say she will bring the other herself. And now let me try on the pinafore for baby; I want to see whether it will fit.' Baby, however, stoutly resisted this trial, using arms and legs with marvellous dexterity, and almost twisting herself out of mother's arms; so the contest was given up for fear of creating a noise, which would have disturbed the invalid: while Clara's second suggestion, that baby should have some pudding, appeared to give entire satisfaction, and produced perfect calm, under which state of things the visitors rose to go, Mabel not having exchanged a word either with mother or children the whole time, and standing on the threshold of the door, waiting for her cousin, who was shaking hands with Mrs. Simmons, and bestowing a parting kiss on the red round cheeks of the now smiling baby. The young people walked on a short distance in silence; each had their own peculiar thoughts of the other. Mabel was the first to break calm. Then she said: 'How you could kiss that dirty little thing and offer to nurse it, I can't conceive, Clara; it quite sickens me to think of it,' said Mabel, with something like a shudder. 'I wonder Aunt Mary sends us to such places; it is work for Bridget to do, and not for us,' she continued. 'I don't think my mamma would approve of my going.' 'Oh, you are mistaken there, I know,' said Clara; 'for I have often heard aunt tell of the poor people your mamma and she used to visit, before Aunt Ada married--yes, and for a long time after she was married, until she was poorly, and then of course she was obliged to give up; but I'm quite sure she will be glad to hear of your doing the same. Now we must make haste, for fear we should be too late for dinner.' CHAPTER XV. A CATASTROPHE. It was not a very pleasant trio that sat at the table the morning after the visit to the cottage. If Mabel had disliked the coarse work on which she had been employed the day before, her repugnance to the examination to which she was subjected by Aunt Mary, in order to test the capabilities of her niece, and to find out what lessons would be most appropriate for her, showed itself so plainly in fits of sullenness, or tears of vexation, that even Miss Livesay herself could not help feeling-dispirited; while Clara, though she tried to think only of her lessons, felt very much disposed to shed tears on her aunt's account. More than once, indeed, a subdued expression of rage escaped from the irritated Mabel; but it was so instantly and authoritatively checked by her aunt, that Mabel was made to feel that it would be useless for her to contend: so she sat and pored over her book in sullen silence.