"
"Who would not be good?" was the inference: and the repetition from
Billy, with his hands clapt together, "Poor widow woman!" gave me much
pleasure.
So my childish story ended, with a kiss of each pretty dear, and their
thanks for my story: and then came on Miss's request for a woman's
story, as she called it. I dismissed my babies to their play; and
taking Miss's hand, she standing before me, all attention, began in a
more womanly strain to _her_; for she is very fond of being thought
a woman; and indeed is a prudent sensible dear, comprehends any thing
instantly, and makes very pretty reflections upon what she hears or
reads as you will observe in what follows:
"There is nothing, my dear Miss Goodwin, that young ladies should be
so watchful over, as their reputation: 'tis a tender flower that the
least frost will nip, the least cold wind will blast; and when once
blasted, it will never flourish again, but wither to the very root.
But this I have told you so often, I need not repeat what I have said.
So to my story.
"There were four pretty ladies lived in one genteel neighbourhood,
daughters of four several families; but all companions and visitors;
and yet all of very different inclinations.
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