“But fashion, Paula,” he pursued, concealing his wonder at the maturity of mind evinced by this simple child of nature, “that inexorable power that rules the very souls of women who once step within the magic circle of her realm! have you never thought of her and the demands that she makes on the time and attention even of the worshippers of the good and the true?”
“Yes, sometimes,” she returned with a repetition of her arch little smile, “when I put on a certain bonnet I have, which Aunt Abby modeled over from one of my grandmother’s. Fashion is a sort of obstinate step-dame I imagine, whom it is less trouble to obey than to oppose. I don’t believe I shall quarrel with Fashion if she will only promise to keep her hands off my soul.”
“But if—” with a pause, “she asks your all, what then?”
“I shall consider that I am in a country of democratic principles,” she laughed, “and beg to be excused from acceding