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 aunts seem to think their nephews better than their nieces; and when gentlemen come here to dine, it is always Matthew, and Mark, and Martin, that are talked to, and never Rose and me. Mr. Moore is our friend, and we'll keep him: but, mind Rose, he's not so much your friend as he is mine: he is my particular acquaintance; remember that!" And she held up her small hand with an admonitory gesture.

Rose was quite accustomed to be admonished by that small hand; her will daily bent itself to that of the impetuous little Jessy: she was guided—overruled by Jessy in a thousand things. On all occasions of show and pleasure, Jessy took the lead, and Rose fell quietly into the background; whereas, when the disagreeables of life—its work and privations were in question, Rose instinctively took upon her, in addition to her own share, what she could of her sister's. Jessy had already settled it in her mind that she, when she was old enough, was to be married; Rose, she decided, must be an old maid, to live with her, look after her children, keep her house. This state of things is not uncommon between two sisters, where one is plain and the other pretty; but in this case, if there was a difference in external appearance. Rose had the advantage: her face was more regular-featured than that of the piquant little Jessy. Jessy, however,