And as Agnes spoke, Harry caught up the radiant pink silk glistening with its rich brocaded flowers, and threw it upon Rose, covering her simple muslin gown. To say that Rose’s first impression was not pleasure would be untrue--or that she did not bestow a glance of affectionate admiration upon the three varieties of Harry’s choice. But the eyes that sought them for a moment sought again with a lengthened wistful gaze his own flushed and happy face. And Harry was considerably excited--that was all--and it was so very easy to account for that. “But just now, you know, we cannot afford it,” said Agnes, gathering her own silk into folds, which she arranged scientifically on her arm, and looking at it with her head on one side, as she held it in different lights. “I never saw anything so beautiful--it’s just too grand; but then the price, Harry!” “Don’t you trouble yourself about the price,” said Harry, gaily. “You’ve nothing to do but to be pleased with them; no, nor Martha either; for do you think, after securing that old wife’s siller, that I may not indulge myself with a silk gown or two? And if my wife and my sisters won’t wear them, why I can only wear them myself. There, there’s some cobweb muslin stuff in the parcel for the two of you, young ladies, and something for Lettie and her friend, and something for our heir; but away with you now, girls, and let me dress, and say nothing about the money.” Ah! hapless Miss Jean Calder! if but you could have heard and seen the doings of this zealous agricultural improver, whose resolute purpose of doubling the value of his newly-acquired lands, drew your beloved “siller” out of its safe concealment, what a wailing banshee shriek had wrung then through these sunny rooms of Allenders! Not on strong cattle and skilful implements--not on the choice seed and the prepared soil--but on the vanities you have scorned through all your envious lifetime--to deck the fair young forms, whose gladsome breath you grudge to them--that _your_ gold, the beloved of your heart, should be squandered thus! Alas, poor miser! But Miss Jean even now clutches her mortgage parchment, with the glitter of malicious power in her cold blue eyes. Let them squander who will--she has secured herself.