she possibly made that.

"They are undoubtedly perfectly moral people," he told his aunt
Cynthia afterwards, "but I wonder that they keep such an immoral
plate." However, that was before he fell in love with Ellen, while
he was struggling with himself in his desire to do so, and making
all manner of sport of himself by way of hindrance.

Ellen at that age could have had no possible conception of the
sentiment with which the young man viewed her environment. She was
sensitive to spiritual discords which might arise from meeting with
another widely different nature, but when it came to material
things, she was at a loss. Then, too, she was pugnaciously loyal to
the glories of the best parlor. She was innocently glad that she had
such a nice room into which to usher him. She felt that the
marble-top table, the plush lambrequin on the mantle-shelf, the
gilded vases, the brass clock, the Nottingham lace curtains, the
olive-and-crimson furniture, the pictures in cheap gilt frames, the
heavily gilded wall-paper, and the throws of thin silk over the
picture corners must prove to him the standing of her family. She
felt an ignoble satisfaction in it, for a certain measure of
commonness clung to the girl like a cobweb. She was as yet too young
to bloom free of her environment, her head was not yet over the
barrier of her daily lot; her heart never would be, and that was her
glory. Young Lloyd handed her the roll of valedictory as soon as he
entered.

"I am very much obliged to you for allowing me to read it," he said.

Ellen took it, blushing. Her heart sank a little. She thought to
herself that he probably did not like it. She looked at him proudly
and timidly, like a child half holding, half withdrawing its hand
for a sweet. It suddenly came to her that she would rather this
young man would praise her valedictory than any one else, that if he
had been present when she read it in the hall, and she had seen him
standing applauding, she could not have contained her triumph and
pride. She was not yet in love with him, but she began to feel that
in his approbation lay the best coin of her realm.

"It is very well written, Miss Brewster," said Robert, and she
flushed with delight.

"Thank you," she said.

But the young man was looking at her as if he had something besides
praise in mind, and she gazed at him, shrinking a little as before a
blow whose motion she felt in the air. However, he laughed
pleasantly when he spoke.