"Indeed, indeed, dear aunt, I never should make anything of it!..." exclaimed Agnes eagerly; "I am sure it is one of the things that people must begin early, ... and I don't at all dislike books, ... and I would rather go out to teach, if you please, than work muslin, ... for I am quite, quite sure that I never should do it well, no, not even decently." "So much the worse for you, child!... At any rate, I have done my duty by offering to have you taught: please to remember that." "And may I begin then, aunt, with my books?" "And where are you to get books, Miss Agnes?... It is of no use to expect I can buy them, and that you will find.... I see already that Silverton is no rule for the rest of the world as to expense, and that I shall have quite enough to do with my money without wasting it on trumpery; ... so, pray, don't look to my buying books for you, for most assuredly I shall do no such thing." "Oh no, aunt!... I do not think of it,--there is not the least occasion for such extravagance; you shall see how well I am provided." And so saying, she ran out of the room, and in a few minutes returned with a small and very neat mahogany box, which in travelling had been carefully covered by a leathern case, and which her aunt had suffered to accompany her unchallenged, because she presumed it to be the treasury of all "her best things;" a species of female property for which the widow had never-failing respect, even when it did not belong to herself, which was perhaps more than could be said respecting any other sort of property whatever. Agnes brought this box in with difficulty, for though small, it was heavy, and when opened displayed to the somewhat surprised eyes of her aunt a collection of tiny volumes, so neatly fitting their receptacle, as to prove that they must have been made to suit each other. "This was Mr. Wilmot's present to me, aunt," said Agnes, taking out a volume to exhibit its pretty binding. "Was it not kind of him?" "It looks very extravagant, I think, for a man whose wife keeps school.... He must have been sadly puzzled to know what to do with his money." "No, aunt, that was not the reason, for Mr. Wilmot is not extravagant at all; but he told me that aunt Betsy, instead of paying every half year, like other people, insisted upon giving him the five years' stipend for me, as well as the money for my clothes, all at once; and that he had always determined upon laying out the interest this sum had brought in a present for me. I think it was very generous of him." "And what in the world have you got there, child? All grammars and spelling-books, I suppose; ... but it's the most senseless quantity of school books that ever were got together for one person, I think.... I see no generosity in anything so very silly." "They are not school books, aunt, I assure you." "Then what are they, pray? Why do you make such a mystery about it?"