She spoke sternly, but her eyes beamed with pleasure.

The young girl's discomfiture seemed to sweeten her very soul.
"For mercy's sake, hold up your dress going down-stairs," she admonished.

"I swept the stairs this morning, but the dust gathers before you can say boo, and that dress won't do up." Rose gathered up the tail of her gown obediently, and she also experienced a certain odd pleasure.

New England blood was in her veins.

It was something new and precious to be admonished as a New England girl might be admonished by a fond mother.
When she went into the south room, still clinging timidly to her lace train, Horace rose.