"Oh, round by the mill, and as far as the seven cottages. Poor Jones is getting worse and worse; his wife says that he cannot last long. I tried to get Mrs. Brown to send all her children to school, but she tells me they can't go in such rags. I'm about to make a parcel of my old clothes, my green dress, and a lot of other things—" "But, my dear," said Lydia's mother, "that dress was quite new this spring; I don't wish—" "I'm tired of it," interrupted Lydia; and seeing that her mother was about to speak, she cut her short by a decided, "I hate green dresses, and I'm not going to wear it again." The mother looked vexed, but said nothing. "You've had a long round, my darling; sit down and rest," said Captain Neill, kindly. "I'm not tired, and would rather stand," replied Lydia, in her short, decided manner, as she flung her hat back on her shoulders, and shook the curls from her heated face. Then, turning to her mother, she said, "Whom do you think I met on the way? All the Thomsons on ponies. I wish I had a pony, too, I should so enjoy riding about." "Could we afford it, you should have one," said her father, who, though very fond of riding, had never mounted a horse since he had quitted the army. It pained him that his child should ever form a wish which he had not the power to gratify. "I don't see why the Thomsons should ride when we walk!" observed Lydia, with a little toss of the head. "We are as good as they any day. Their mother was no fine lady, I've heard, and they say in the village that Mr. Thomson is deep in debt, and will have to sell his fine house." "People say ill-natured things, my love; I would not repeat them," observed Mrs. Neill, mildly. Lydia looked annoyed at the gentle reproof, and began humming an air to herself, to show that she did not mind it. "Have you written the notes as I desired you, my dear?" asked the sick mother, after a silence. "No, I've been busy, and shall be busy all day; I'll write them to-morrow," replied Lydia, sitting down, and carelessly opening a book. "Did you carry your missionary subscription to the Vicarage?" asked the captain. "My girl keeps a collection box," he added, smilingly turning towards his brother to explain. "No; I did not," replied Lydia, shortly. "And why? for the clergyman told us he was anxious to send in the subscriptions directly." "I would rather wait till I have collected more," answered Lydia. "The Barnes had one pound nine in their box." "But we cannot attempt to compete with the Barnes, my love; we can give but little, but we give it cheerfully." "I will wait till I have collected more," repeated Lydia. "I should be ashamed to send in less than my neighbors."