such a Jack."

A slight change was perceptible in the countenance of Jane Emory,
and for a moment the color deepened on her cheek. But when she spoke
in reply to her friend's remark, no indication that she felt its
cutting import, was perceptible.

"I am convinced, from close observation of Walter Gray," said Jane,
"that he has in his character that which should ever protect him
from jest or ridicule."

"And what is that, my lady Jane?"

"Right thoughts and sound principles."

"Fiddle stick!"

"These should not only be respected, but honored wherever found,"
said Jane, gravely.

"In a bear or a boor!" Cara responded, in a tone of irony.

"My friend Cara is ungenerous in her allusions. Surely, she will not
assert that Walter Gray is a bear or a boor?"

"He is boorish enough, at any rate."

"There I differ with you, Cara. His manner is not so showy, nor his
attentions to the many little forms and observances of social life,
so prompt as to please the fastidious in these matters. These
defects, however, are not defects of character, but of education. He
has not mingled enough in society to give him confidence."

"They are defects, and are serious enough to make him quite
offensive to me. Last evening, at Mrs. Clinton's party, I sat beside
him for half an hour, and was really disgusted with his marked
disregard of the little courtesies of social life."

"Indeed!" replied Jane, her manner becoming more serious, "and in
what did these omissions consist?"

"Why, in the first place, while we were conversing,----"

"He could converse, then?" said Jane, interrupting her friend.

"O, no, I beg pardon! While we were _trying_ to converse--for among
his other defects is an inability to talk to a lady on any subject
of interest--I dropped my handkerchief, on purpose, of course, but
he never offered to lift it for me; indeed, I doubt whether he saw
it at all."

"Then, Cara, how could you expect him to pick it up for you, if he
did not see it?"

"But he ought to have seen it. He should have had his eyes about
him; and so should every gentleman who sits by or is near a lady. I
know one that never fails."

"And pray, who is the perfect gentleman?" asked Jane smiling. "Is he
one of my acquaintances?"

"Certainly he is. I mean Charles Wilton."

"He is, I must confess, different from Walter Gray," Jane remarked,
drily.

"I hope he is!" said Cara, tossing her head, for she felt that
something by no means complim