Rosamond, during this scene, especially at the moment when her present was pushed away with such disdain, had been making reflections upon the nature of true generosity. A smile from her father, who stood by, a silent spectator of the catastrophe of the filigree basket, gave rise to these reflections; nor were they entirely dissipated by the condolence of the rest of the company, nor even by the praises of her godmother, who, for the purpose of condoling with her, said, “Well, my dear Rosamond, I admire your generous spirit. You know I prophesied that your half-guinea would be gone the soonest. Did I not, Laura?” said she, appealing, in a sarcastic tone, to where she thought Laura was. “Where is Laura? I don’t see her.” Laura came forward. “You are too _prudent_ to throw away your money like your sister. Your half-guinea, I’ll answer for it, is snug in your pocket—Is it not?” “No, madam,” answered she, in a low voice. But low as the voice of Laura was, the poor little lace-girl heard it; and now, for the first time, fixing her eyes upon Laura, recollected her benefactress. “Oh, that’s the young lady!” she exclaimed, in a tone of joyful gratitude, “the good, good young lady, who gave me the half-guinea, and would not stay to be thanked for it; but I _will_ thank her now.” “The half-guinea, Laura!” said her godmother. “What is all this?” “I’ll tell you, madam, if you please,” said the little girl. It was not in expectation of being praised for it, that Laura had been generous, and therefore everybody was really touched with the history of the weaving-pillow; and whilst they praised, felt a certain degree of respect, which is not always felt by those who pour forth eulogiums. _Respect_ is not an improper word, even applied to a child of Laura’s age; for let the age or situation of the person be what it may, they command respect who deserve it. “Ah, madam!” said Rosamond to her godmother, “now you see—you see she is _not_ a little miser. I’m sure that’s better than wasting half a guinea upon a filigree basket; is it not, ma’am?” said she, with an eagerness which showed that she had forgotten all her own misfortunes in sympathy with her sister. “This is being _really generous_, father, is it not?” “Yes, Rosamond,” said her father, and he kissed her; “this _is_ being really generous. It is not only by giving away money that we can show generosity; it is by giving up to others anything that we like ourselves: and therefore,” added he, smiling, “it is really generous of you to give your sister the thing you like best of all others.” “The thing I like the best of all others, father,” said Rosamond, half pleased, half vexed. “What is that, I wonder? You don’t mean _praise_, do you, sir?” “Nay, you must decide that yourself, Rosamond.” “Why, sir,” said she, ingenuously, “perhaps it _was_ ONCE the thing I liked best; but the pleasure I have just felt makes me like something else much better.” ETON MONTEM.