Cousin Jane has invited herself over to
Burnbank to spend a week or two: I hope
she will not bring a Dorcas basket to sew at,
as she did the last time she came. I want to
be out of doors this glorious weather.

It was such fun once in Cousin Henry's
magnificent laying down of the law for my
rule and guidance! When he had settled
that I was to go to school, he added precisely:
"And until Eleanor's education is finished
her allowance need not be more than three
hundred a-year. Afterwards, until she is of
age, and my duty ceases, six hundred will be
about the mark."

I spoke up immediately, and said; "No,
Cousin Henry, it will not. I shall have five
hundred a-year now, and immediately I leave
school, I shall choose to enjoy the whole of
my income."

Grannie looked so startled, and Cousin
Henry sat bolt upright in his chair, drew a
very long breath, and glared as if I had struck
him. After a minute's pause, he asked, " But
what can you do with five hundred a-year
now?"

I replied, " I want to have a pretty little
carriage and a pair of ponies, like Mrs. Lake's,
for us at Burnbank; and in my holidays, I
want a horse to ride myself—-then I want to
re-furnish the drawing-room, and put up a
little conservatory at the glass-door end,—-I
want to hire Mary Burton to wait on Grannie
and me, and Mary's brother to attend to the
ponies, and drive Grannie about when I
am away. All that can be done, Cousin
Henry?"

"Certainly, it can be done," said he with a
great deal of hesitation, and keeping his eye
watchfully upon me.

"Then, it must be done—-there, Grannie,
the carriage and ponies for you! " cried I,
and really for the first time I felt what a good
thing money is.

Cousin Henry did not look half satisfied,
but he refrained from arguing the matter—-
perhaps he felt a little glad, because he is
very fond of Grannie, and he has far too
large a family himself for there to be any
likelihood of his making her old age more
comfortable. He could not reasonably oppose
me, because I know Uncle Robert left his
estate free from incumbrance and in perfect
order; consequently there can be no pretence
for accumulating money to clear or improve
it.

I believe I am going to develop into a
woman of business, after all. But would
anybody believe it? I will tell you, my old
book, but nobody else. I have been trying to
calculate the interest of eighty thousand
pounds at four per cent. and I can't do it!
I know nothing of sums except the four first
rules and long division, and I am ashamed
to ask what my income will ultimately be
——yet, I wish to know—-and when I do
know I will spend it every year up to the
last shilling!

July the twelfth.—-Last night I went to
have tea with Miss Lawson and Betsy. I
had bought two very nice easy chairs the day
before at Compton, and sent them with a
little note and my love. Next morning, Miss
Betsy came and asked me to go in the evening;
they were both so pleased with my
present, and each sat in her chair all the
time to show me how they appreciated them.
I had felt afraid they might be affronted,
but Miss Lawson said, "Never fear to do
a kind action, Eleanor, now you have the
means. We never could have bought these
chairs ourselves, as Betsy knows, if our
backs had been broken with rheumatism.
We shall always think of you when we are
resting in them." And she did not snap once
all the while I was there.

Cousin Jane is here, as full of business
and care as she usually is. I have subscribed
to every one of her baskets, and all her
schools, but I had hard work to beg off
making sun-bonnets for the little girls of
Central Africa; and whether I would or no,
I have had to make two bazaar pincushions
and a doll pen-wiper. I offered her ten
shillings to let me off, but she lectured me
for idleness, and made me set to work.
The Curlings came to invite us to join a
pic-nic of theirs to the Abbey at Downham,
but Grannie said No for me, and afterwards
explained that she did not want me to be
acquainted with the people I should meet
there. I should have liked to go very well,
not that I care for any of the people, but
because the drive there is pleasant, and the
old ruins are so beautiful.

The Curlings have undergone a wonderful
transformation lately; their civility is
oppressive; how I do dislike them! That
Mary Jane asked me if I should continue
to visit the Lawsons, and actually had the
insolence to add: " The reason we never
took you up so cordially as we were inclined
to do, Eleanor dear, was because we really
could not associate with such common
people—-you know they used to keep a little
shop in Compton, where they sold coffee and
tea."

I put on my grand air, which Grannie
always says repels as decidedly as if I said,
"Stand back! " and told her that my
lovings and hatings had undergone no change,
and that I should certainly go to Miss
Lawson's as much as I had ever done.
She reddened, and tried to talk about my
position (she and I taking diametrically
opposite views of how the said position is
best respected), and opined that I should soon
learn my own value.

How sick it all makes me! as if directly this
mis-fortune happened to me I had lost my
identity, and ceased to be that Eleanor Clare
who went on her way rejoicing and
unmolested! I don't like to think it can be true,
but I have fancied that two or three people
whom I have known since I was a child have