comfortable. Thecoffee is capital; and the meal, simple enough, is very delicate in itsarrangement.
Only the two ladies are at the table; one behind the coffee urn, andthe other near her. The mistress of the house has a sensible, agreeableface, and well-bred manner; the other lady is the one who has been sojealously discussed and described in another family. As Miss Juliadescribed her, there she sits, in a morning dress which lends herfigure no attraction whatever. And – her figure can do without it. Asthe question is asked her about New York, her eye goes over to theglittering western shore.
"I like this a great deal better than the city," she added to herformer words.
"O, of course, the brick and stone!" answered her hostess. "I did notmean that. I mean, how do you like us?"
"Mrs. Wishart, I like you very much," said the girl with a certainsweet spirit.
"Thank you! but I did not mean that either. Do you like no one but me?"
"I do not know anybody else."
"You have seen plenty of people."
"I do not know them, though. Not a bit. One thing I do not like. Peopletalk so on the surface of things."
"Do you want them to go deep in an evening party?"
"It is not only in evening parties. If you want me to say what I think,Mrs. Wishart. It is the same always, if people come for morning calls,or if we go to them, or if we see them in the evening; people talkabout nothing; nothing they care about."
"Nothing you care about."
"They do not seem to care about it either."
"Why do you suppose they talk it then?" Mrs. Wishart asked, amused.
"It seems to be a form they must go through," Lois said, laughing alittle. "Perhaps they enjoy it, but they do not seem as if they did.And they laugh so incessantly, – some of them, – at what has no fun init. That seems to be a form too; but laughing for form's sake seems tome hard work."
"My dear, do you want people to be always serious?"
"How do you mean, 'serious'?"
"Do you want them to be always going 'deep' into things?"
"N-o, perhaps not; but I would like them to be always in earnest."
"My dear! What a fearful state of society you would bring about!
Imagine for a moment that everybody was always in earnest!"
"Why not? I mean, not always sober; did you think I meant that? Imean, whether they laugh or talk, doing it heartily, and feeling andthinking as they speak. Or rather, speaking and laughing only as theyfeel."
"My dear, do you know what would become of society?"
"No. What?"
"I go to see Mrs. Brinkerhoff, for instance. I have something on mymind, and I do not feel like discussing any light matter, so I sitsilent. Mrs. Brinkerhoff has a fearfully hard piece of work to keep theconversation going; and when I have departed she votes me a great bore, and hopes I will never come again. When she returns my visit, theconditions are reversed; I vote her a bore; and we conclude it iseasier to do without each other's company."
"But do you never find people a bore as it is?"
Mrs. Wishart laughed. "Do you?"
"Sometimes. At least I should if I lived among them. Now, all is new, and I am curious."
"I can tell you one thing, Lois; nobody votes you a bore."
"But I never talk as they do."
"Never mind. There are exceptions to all rules. But, my dear, even youmust not be always so desperately in earnest. By the way! That handsomeyoung Mr. Caruthers – does he make himself a bore too? You have seen agood deal of him."
"No," said Lois with some deliberation. "He is pleasant, what I haveseen of him."
"And, as I remarked, that is a good deal. Isn't he a handsome fellow? Ithink Tom Caruthers is a good fellow, too. And he is likely to be asuccessful fellow. He is starting well in life, and he has connectionsthat will help him on. It is a good family; and they have money enough."
"How do you mean, 'a good family'?"
"Why, you know what that phrase expresses, don't you?"
"I am not sure that I do, in your sense. You do not mean religious?"
"No," said Mrs. Wishart, smiling; "not necessarily. Religion hasnothing to do with it. I mean – we mean – It is astonishing how hard itis to put some things! I mean, a family that has had a good socialstanding for generations. Of course such a family is connected withother good families, and it is consequently strong, and has advantagesfor all belonging to it."
"I mean," said Lois slowly, "a family that has served God forgenerations. Such a family has connections too, and advantages."
"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Wishart, opening her eyes a little at thegirl, "the two things are not inconsistent, I hope."
"I hope not."
"Wealth and position are good things at any rate, are they not?"
"So far as they go, I suppose so," said Lois. "O yes, they are pleasantthings; and good things, if they are used right."
"They are whether or no. Come! I can't have you holding any extravagantideas, Lois. They don't do in the world. They make one peculiar, and itis not good taste to be peculiar."
"You know, I am not in the world," Lois answered quietly.
"Not when you are at home, I grant you; but here, in my house, you are; and when you have a house of your own, it is likely you will be. Nomore coffee, my dear? Then let us go to the order of the day. What isthis, Williams?"
"For Miss Lot'rop," the obsequious servant replied with a bow, – "debo-quet." But he presented to his mistress a little note on his salver, and then handed to Lois a magnificent bunch of hothouse flowers. Mrs.Wishart's eyes followed the bouquet, and she even rose up to examine it.
"That is beautiful, my dear. What camellias! And what geraniums! Thatis the Black Prince, one of those, I am certain; yes, I am sure it is; and that is one of the new rare varieties. That has not come from anyflorist's greenhouse. Never. And that rose-coloured geranium is LadySutherland. Who sent the flowers, Williams?"
"Here is his card, Mrs. Wishart," said Lois. "Mr. Caruthers."
"Tom Caruthers!" echoed Mrs. Wishart. "He has cut them in his mother'sgreenhouse, the sinner!"
"Why?" said Lois. "Would that be not right?"
"It would be right, if– . Here's a note from Tom's mother, Lois – butnot about the flowers. It is to ask us to a luncheon party. Shall wego?"
"You know, dear Mrs. Wishart, I go just where you choose to take me,"said the girl, on whose cheeks an exquisite rose tint rivalled the LadySutherland geranium blossoms. Mrs. Wishart noticed it, and eyed thegirl as she was engrossed with her flowers, examining, smelling, andsmiling at them. It was pleasure that raised that delicious bloom inher cheeks, she decided;
