"On Sundays before church they attend the village school; when the week's pocket-money, which has been carefully hoarded for the purpose, is produced for rewards to the most deserving scholars. And yet, sir, with all this, you may be in the house a month without hearing a word of the matter; it is all done so quietly; and when they meet at their meals they are more cheerful and gay than if they had been ever so idle." Here Mrs. Comfit stopped, for just then two sweet little cherry-cheeked figures presented themselves at the door, swinging a straw basket between them, and crying out, in a little begging voice, "Pray, Mrs. Comfit, bestow your charity--we want something coarse for the hungry, and something nice for the sick--poor Dame Alice and her little grand-daughter!" They were going on, but spying me, they colored up to the ears, and ran away as fast as they could, though I did all in my power to detain them. CHAPTER XIV. When Miss Stanley came in to make breakfast, she beautifully exemplified the worthy housekeeper's description. I have sometimes seen young women, whose simplicity was destitute of elegance, and others in whom a too elaborate polish had nearly effaced their native graces: Lucilla appeared to unite the simplicity of nature to the refinement of good breeding. It was thus she struck me at first sight. I forbore to form a decided opinion till I had leisure to observe whether her mind fulfilled all that her looks promised. Lucilla Stanley is rather perfectly elegant than perfectly beautiful. I have seen women as striking, but I never saw one so interesting. Her beauty is countenance: it is the stamp of mind intelligibly printed on the face. It is not so much the symmetry of features as the joint triumph of intellect and sweet temper. A fine old poet has well described her: Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks and so distinctly wrought. That one could almost say her body thought.