"Oh, no," said Ruth, with a glad smile, "not at all, I was just thinking whether I was not glad to have him gone a little while, so that I could sit down and think how much I love him." The old lady moved uneasily in her chair. "I suppose you understand all about housekeeping, Ruth?" Ruth blushed. "No," said she, "I have but just returned from boarding-school. I asked Harry to wait till I had learned house-keeping matters, but he was not willing." The old lady untied her cap-strings, and patted the floor restlessly with her foot. "It is a great pity you were not brought up properly," said she. "I learned all that a girl should learn, before I married. Harry has his fortune yet to make, you know. Young people, now-a-days, seem to think that money comes in showers, whenever it is wanted; that's a mistake; a penny at a time--that's the way we got ours; that's the way Harry and you will have to get yours. Harry has been brought up sensibly. He has been taught economy; he is, like me, naturally of a very generous turn; he will occasionally offer you pin-money. In those cases, it will be best for you to pass it over to me to keep; of course you can always have it again, by telling me how you wish to spend it. I would advise you, too, to lay by all your handsome clothes. As to the silk stockings you were married in, of course you will never be so extravagant as to wear them again. I never had a pair of silk stockings in my life; they have a very silly, frivolous look. Do you know how to iron, Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth; "I have sometimes clear-starched my own muslins and laces." "Glad to hear it; did you ever seat a pair of pantaloons?" "No," said Ruth, repressing a laugh, and yet half inclined to cry; "you forget that I am just home from boarding-school." "Can you make bread? When I say _bread_ I _mean_ bread--old fashioned, yeast riz bread; none of your sal-soda, salæratus, sal-volatile poisonous mixtures, that must be eaten as quick as baked, lest it should dry up; _yeast_ bread--do you know how to make it?" "No," said Ruth, with a growing sense of her utter good-for-nothingness; "people in the city always buy baker's bread; my father did." "Your father! land's sake, child, you mustn't quote your father now you're married; you haven't any father." I never had, thought Ruth. "To be sure; what does the Bible say? 'Forsaking father and mother, cleave to your wife,' (or husband, which amounts to the same thing, I take it;) and speaking of that, I hope you won't be always running home, or running anywhere in fact. Wives should be keepers at home. Ruth," continued the old lady after a short pause, "do you know I should like your looks better, if you didn't curl your hair?" "I don't curl it," said Ruth, "it curls naturally."