“At last, my dear cousin, we are to have an excellent performance by the Thalian Association; and I have been anxious for you to see one, ever since you have been with us; you know there has been only one this winter, and then I could not go because the children were so cross, but the little rogues shall not prevent our going this time. By the way, my dear Clara, Mrs. Dawson has some elegant head-dresses, and we must go down this evening and get one for you.” “But, Cousin Florence, you don’t recollect that I have several already, and one that I have never worn.” “La, Clara, you wore that to Mrs. Armand’s party.” “But the wreath of white roses, cousin.” “Oh, Clara, that is too simple altogether.” “To tell you the truth, Cousin Florence, the sum of money mamma gave me when I left home was, I thought, much more than I should need, but I now find that it is nearly expended, and if I purchase these superfluities I must exceed that sum, and you know that our circumstances are limited.” “Pshaw, child, what of that? you can get all you want from your mother’s business man.” Now, our heroine ought to have had moral courage enough to have firmly declined making the unnecessary purchase, but it must be recollected that she was very young, and being always accustomed to depend on her mother in such matters, it will not be wondered at if she quietly gave up the point. As soon as the head-dress, which was a very handsome one for six dollars, was purchased Mrs. Cleveland turned to a ribbon-box, and selecting a very pretty piece insisted upon Clara’s purchasing it: “Yes, Clara,” said she, “it is only four dollars.” “Really, I do not think I need it, Cousin Florence,” replied our heroine. But Mrs. Cleveland would hear no objections, so the sash was purchased, and Clara with her cousin left the shop. When they returned home the sash was much admired by every one; but Mrs. Cleveland discovered that it was too long, and cutting off the superfluity, saying that, “it would make beautiful pin-cushions for the fair which Clara expected would take place shortly after her return home.” But Mrs. Cleveland might have spared herself the trouble of assigning any use to the ribbon, for Johnny having risen in haste from the dinner-table, his hands were in such a state as, after having possessed himself of the ribbon, soon to render it unfit for pin-cushions or any other purpose. “Johnny! you mischief,” exclaimed his mother, “Cousin Clara’ll whip you.” She would have been mortified had she known that Clara felt very much inclined to do so. The evening at length arrived, which Clara hoped so much to enjoy; but here again our heroine was destined to disappointment, for immediately after tea, Mrs. Cleveland observed,