"One who is brought up with the manners of a gentleman, who dresses like a gentleman, and who belongs to a genteel family." "Well, aunt, I suppose then that you call Charles Davenport a gentleman?" "Why, to be sure I do." "Well, I call him a vulgar, low-bred boy; and, aunt, I suppose that you would call Roland Bruce, with his patched clothes, short pantaloons, and old jacket, a common boy?" "To be sure I would, child; why, what is he?" "Why, I think he must be one of nature's noblemen, for he looked ever so much grander than Charles or Harry, as he stood on the beach, taking the part of poor little children, and wouldn't fight, either. They looked really mean in their fine dress, and he looked like a hero in his poor clothes. Give me nature's nobleman, after all, aunty." "Brother, just listen to the child," said Aunt Matilda; "did you ever hear such horrid talk? I can't instil any proper pride into that girl." Mr. Hamilton threw himself back in his chair, and laughed heartily at what he called "Madcap's spirit," and told his sister "not to be alarmed, for he was afraid that they'd find too much pride there some day, for either of them to manage." Aunt Matilda loved her high-spirited little niece, and found it very easy to forgive her; but she was often sadly afraid that she would forget her rank, and disgrace her family, by improper connexions. Soon after tea was over, Charles and Harry made their appearance, but Madeline was still so indignant that she quickly left the room, and steadily refused all her aunt's entreaties to return. "They're a mean pair, aunty, and I can't see either of them this evening," was all the response that she could obtain from her wilful little niece. Before retiring, the warm-hearted child sought her father's study, and seating herself on his lap, laid her cheek softly against his, and said, "Papa, kiss me before I go to bed. If I've said anything wrong, forgive me, dear papa." "No, little Mad-cap, you've done nothing wrong; only, dear, I don't want you to associate with all kinds of common people." And thus the impulsive child's faults were winked at by her indulgent father, and false worldly sentiments inculcated by her frivolous aunt. The next day, little Susan presented herself at Woodcliff, and Aunt Matilda, who was really kind-hearted, gave her some very nice garments for her mother and brothers; and Madeline, with the impulsiveness of her nature, was loading gifts upon her that were wholly unsuitable, until aunty came in to check the profuseness of the generous child; and Madeline was sadly disappointed as she carried back to her wardrobe a handsomely flounced pink lawn, and a pretty little jaunty hat trimmed with flowers.