"Do you ever see Lavinia Raymond? What a conceited piece she is! Is she just as fond of dress as ever? When she was at our house, all she thought about was changing her dress, and walking up and down before the glass. I suppose that I must be polite to her, for her mother is my father's sister; but I know I shall like you better, Lucy." Lucy was amused at the perfect openness of Madeline's remarks, but she had been taught better lessons, and merely replied, "Lavinia comes to see us occasionally; our doings are not pleasing to her; but mamma does not like me to make unpleasant remarks about people. Lavinia has never been taught anything better. We ought to be sorry for her." "Well! well! you are a good little Lucy, I see that. I am afraid that you will not like my plain-spoken words." "I like truth, Madeline; but it is not well, mamma says, to express all that we think about people. Charity should lead us to hope the best of everybody." "I do believe that you are a Methodist, Lucy; that's the name that is given to very good people, is it not, Lucy?" "There are very good people among all Christians, Madeline; but I think that my mamma is the best of all." "Lucy, will you give us some music?" said Aunt Clara. She did not need any coaxing, but went forward to the instrument with the calm self-possession of one that had been taught to think but little of herself. Lucy Edmonds had a sweet voice, and sang several songs most charmingly. "That's what I like, Lucy," remarked little Mad-cap. "Now there was Lavinia Raymond, who has had the very best masters; it was the greatest act of condescension for her to play one piece, and then it was done in such an affected style, that I really used to feel sick when she sat down to the piano. Here! this was the way;" and Madeline seated herself at the instrument, and, being a perfect mimic, commenced rolling her eyes, and mincing her words in imitation of her cousin. "Madeline," said Aunt Clara, "did not Lavinia stay with you some months?" "Yes, ma'am, she was at Woodcliff three months." "Is it kind, Maddy, to ridicule her? You know that she is your cousin, and has been your guest. Never mind Lavinia, Maddy, I would rather hear some of your music." "I would play willingly, Aunt Clara, but I only know a few simple songs." She sat down with such an artless, winning manner, that Aunt Clara listened with peculiar delight, not only on account of the manner with which she complied, but with feelings of deep emotion, as the rich music of her remarkable voice reminded her of the sister whom she had lost. "Do you like Scotch songs, Aunt Clara?" "Yes, my dear; will you sing one?" and Maddy sang with peculiar sweetness-- "Ye banks and braes o' bonny doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair," but when she sang in her own touching way, "I am wearing awa', Jean," Mrs. Edmonds could not restrain the starting tears, for it was her sister's favorite song.