mitted, indeed, condemnations of one's
neighbor no less sweeping, but it conveyed them in a phraseology far
more restrained.

"I cannot regret your coming to Kings Port," said my hostess, after we
had talked for a little while, and I had complimented the balmy March
weather and the wealth of blooming flowers; "but I fear that Fanning is
not a name that you will find here. It belongs to North Carolina."

I smiled and explained that North Carolina Fannings were useless to me.
"And, if I may be so bold, how well you are acquainted with my errand!"

I cannot say that my hostess smiled, that would be too definite; but I
can say that she did not permit herself to smile, and that she let
me see this repression. "Yes," she said, "we are acquainted with your
errand, though not with its motive."

I sat silent, thinking of the Exchange.

My hostess now gave me her own account of why all things were known
to all people in this town. "The distances in your Northern cities are
greater, and their population is much greater. There are but few of us
in Kings Port." In these last words she plainly told me that those "few"
desired no others. She next added: "My nephew, John Mayrant, has spoken
of you at some length."

I bowed. "I had the pleasure to see and hear him order a wedding cake."

"Yes. From Eliza La Heu (pronounced Layhew), my niece; he is my nephew,
she is my niece on the other side. My niece is a beginner at the
Exchange. We hope that she will fulfil her duties there in a
worthy manner. She comes from a family which is schooled to meet
responsibilities."

I bowed again; again it seemed fitting. "I had not, until now, known the
charming girl's name," I murmured.

My hostess now bowed slightly. "I am glad that you find her charming."

"Indeed, yes!" I exclaimed.

"We, also, are pleased with her. She is of good family--for the
up-country."

Once again our alphabet fails me. The peculiar shade of kindness, of
recognition, of patronage, which my agreeable hostess (and all Kings
Port ladies, I soon noticed) imparted to the word "up-country" cannot be
conveyed except by the human voice--and only a Kings Port voice at that.
It is a much lighter damnation than what they make of the phrase "from
Georgia," which I was soon to hear uttered by the lips of the lady. "And
so you know about his wedding cake?"

"My dear madam, I feel that I shall know about everything."

Her gray eyes looked at me quietly for a moment. "That i