"Come; I can bestow a benefit," she exclaimed. "I can do a good deed with my cash. My thousand a year is not merely a matter of dirty bank-notes and jaundiced guineas (let me speak respectfully of both, though, for I adore them), but, it may be, health to the drooping, strength to the weak, consolation to the sad. I was determined to make something of it better than a fine old house to live in, than satin gowns to wear, better than deference from acquaintance and homage from the poor. Here is to begin. This summer, Caroline, Mrs. Pryor and I go out into the North Atlantic, beyond the Shetland, perhaps to the Faroe Isles. We will see seals in Suderoe, and, doubtless, mermaids in Stromoe.--Caroline is laughing, Mrs. Pryor. _I_ made her laugh; _I_ have done her good."

"Come; I can do a good deed with my cash," she exclaimed. "My thousand a year can bring health to the drooping, and consolation to the sad. This summer, we shall go out into the North Atlantic, beyond the Shetlands, perhaps to the Faroe Isles. We will see seals and mermaids. Caroline is laughing, Mrs. Pryor. I have done her good."
