During that morning call, Mrs. Jameson, besides the reformed costume,
advocated another innovation which fairly took our breaths away.
She was going to beautify the village. We had always considered the
village beautiful as it was, and we bridled a little at that.

"There is scarcely a house in this village which is overgrown with
vines," said she. "I am going to introduce vines."

Louisa ventured to say that she thought vines very pretty, but she
knew some people objected to them on the score of spiders, and also
thought that they were bad for the paint. We poor, frugal village
folk have always to consider whether beauty will trespass on utility,
and consequently dollars and cents. There are many innocent slaves to
Mammon in our midst.

Mrs. Jameson sniffed in her intensely scornful way. "Spiders and
paint!" said she. "I am going to have the houses of this village
vine-clad. It is time that the people were educated in beauty."

"People won't like it if she does go to planting vines around their
houses without their permission, even if she does mean well," said
Louisa after she had gone.

"She never will dare to without their permission," said I; but I
wondered while I spoke, and Louisa laughed.

"Don't you be too sure of that," said she--and she was right.

Permission in a few cases Mrs. Jameson asked, and in the rest she
assumed. Old Jonas Martin ransacked the woods for vines--clematis and