Now, when one is going to give advice, it is very troublesome to have its necessity thus called in question; and Mrs. Abigail, who was fond of her own opinion, felt called upon to defend it. "Why, yes, you have, Mary; every body in the village notices it." "I don't care what every body in the village says. I shall always do what I think proper," retorted the young lady; "I know Cousin William does not think so." "Well, _I_ think he does, from some things I have heard him say." "O aunt! what have you heard him say?" said Mary, nearly upsetting a chair in the eagerness with which she turned to her aunt. "Mercy on us! you need not knock the house down, Mary. I don't remember exactly about it, only that his way of speaking made me think so." "O aunt! do tell me what it was, and all about it," said Mary, following her aunt, who went around dusting the furniture. Mrs. Abigail, like most obstinate people, who feel that they have gone too far, and yet are ashamed to go back, took refuge in an obstinate generalization, and only asserted that she had heard him say things, as if he did not quite like her ways. This is the most consoling of all methods in which to leave a matter of this kind for a person of active imagination. Of course, in five minutes, Mary had settled in her mind a list of remarks that would have been suited to any of her village companions, as coming from her cousin. All the improbability of the thing vanished in the absorbing consideration of its possibility; and, after a moment's reflection, she pressed her lips together in a very firm way, and remarked that "Mr. Barton would have no occasion to say such things again." It was very evident, from her heightened color and dignified air, that her state of mind was very heroical. As for poor Aunt Abigail, she felt sorry she had vexed her, and addressed herself most earnestly to her consolation, remarking, "Mary, I don't suppose William meant any thing. He knows you don't mean any thing wrong." "Don't _mean_ any thing wrong!" said Mary, indignantly. "Why, child, he thinks you don't know much about folks and things, and if you have been a little----" "But I have not been. It was he that talked with me first. It was he that did every thing first. He called me cousin--and he _is_ my cousin." "No, child, you are mistaken; for you remember his grandfather was----" "I don't care who his grandfather was; he has no right to think of me as he does." "Now, Mary, don't go to quarrelling with him; he can't help his thoughts, you know." "I don't care what he thinks," said Mary, flinging out of the room with tears in her eyes.