While Mrs. Crump, far enough from
vanity, always dressed with exceeding plainness, Ida's attire was
always rich and tasteful. She would sometimes ask, "Mother, why
don't you buy yourself some of the pretty things you get for me?"
Mrs. Crump would answer, smiling, "Oh, I'm an old woman, Ida. Plain
things are best for me."
"No, I'm sure you're not old, mother. You don't wear a cap."
But Mrs. Crump would always playfully evade the child's questions.
Had Ida been an ordinary child, all this petting would have had an
injurious effect upon her mind. But, fortunately she had that rare
simplicity, young as she was, which lifted her above the dangers to
which many might have been subjected. Instead of being made vain,
she only felt grateful for the many kindnesses bestowed upon her by
her father and mother and brother Jack, as she was wont to call
them. Indeed, it had not been thought best to let her know that such
was not the relation in which they really stood to her.
There was one point, more important than dress, in which Ida
profited by the indulgence of her friends.
"Wife," the cooper was wont to say, "Ida is a sacred charge in our
hands. If we allow her to grow up ignorant, or afford her only
ordinary advantages, we shall not fulfil our duty. We have the
means, through Providence, to give her some of those advantages
which she would enjoy if she remained in that sphere to which her
parents, doubtless, belong.
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