'That will do. But _sometimes_ it happens, that beauty of effect must give way before more important uses.' 'Why? And how?' she said looking at him. 'Do you want me to go into it?' 'Yes, of course. And get me out.' 'I don't know about that. Well,—I have seen you,—to come to personalities,—I have seen you, for instance, wearing a hat and feather. I have good reason to remember it; for the play of that feather used to gratify and irritate me, both at once, beyond what was on the whole easy to bear. The hat suited the feather, and the feather became the hat; and hat and feather were precisely suited to you. _Your_ purpose, or "views," in dressing, were perfectly attained. Suppose I could shew you that the pretty brown plume represented what would keep a certain poor family from suffering through the winter months?' If Hazel was ready to laugh at one point of this speech, she grew grave enough over the remainder; the sensitive colour stirring and deepening in her cheeks. Anything that ever came near direct personal criticism was so new to her. 'But Mr. Rollo—' she began. 'Yes,' he said gently and taking her hand, 'I am waiting for that. Say just what is in your mind.' 'The poor family did not come forward, or they could have had what they wanted. I did not know where they were. You do not think I invest everything in feathers,—feelings and all?' 'Hazel, I am putting a case. It is a constant case, certainly; but brought forward just now to illustrate a principle—nothing else. Suppose the poor family did come forward and get its supply; then I could tell you of a case of sickness, and shew you that your feather represented the professional attendance and skill which poverty could not command.' 'But, but,' said Hazel earnestly,—'I mean. Suppose,—I have enough for them and myself too?' 'Then I could tell you of a poor invalid, to whom a few weeks in the country would be life and health; but she cannot stop work. Or I could tell you of a family just turned out of house and home because illness has made them behindhand with the rent. I could shew you friendless children, to one of whom your feather would give safety and food for a year. Or feeble and ailing people, to whom it would supply the delicacies they cannot get nor do without. Or poor ministers, to whom it could go in an invaluable parcel of books. Or ignorant poor, seeking instruction, to whom it would be months of schooling. And then, I should but have given you samples, Hazel, which you might multiply by the hundred and the thousand, and still keep far within the literal fact.' She listened with a grave face, trying to follow; but it is hard for eighteen to realize at all what even fourscore takes in but dimly. 'You think I am extravagant,' she said. 'That would be a very harsh word in this connection. I do not mean it. I was trying to answer you. You said, "Suppose I have enough for them and myself too." '