comprehensively, and the
interrupted function flowed smoothly on again.

Cousin Lorando Bean balanced his cup on his broad palm and gazed about
appreciatively at the casts and water-colors on the dull green walls.

"Very snug little quarters, these," he volunteered, "but, do you know,
Cousin Jule, I suppose it's all right for ladies, but I don't seem to
breathe extra well in these little rooms, somehow! I've been in two or
three of them like this, more or less, since I came to New York--people
I used to know that I've been hunting up--and, by George, I began to
feel as if I was getting red in the face, if you see what I mean."

"Yes, indeed, Cousin Lorando, I do," returned Miss Trueman eagerly, "I
see exactly. And not having any cellar--you've no idea! Nor any
attic, either. And often and often we have the gas lighted all through
breakfast. Of course there are a great many conveniences," she added
loyally, "and there's no doubt it saves steps. But I almost think I'd
rather take 'em."

He nodded.

"What's become of the old place, Cousin Jule? I judge you've been out of
it some time?"

"Two years, Cousin Lorando. The girls had been boarding up to then, and
when Aunt Martha died they got up this plan for me to come down and live
with them, for they couldn't afford it quite, alone, and then I could
chaperon them."

Aunt Julia delivered herself of this phrase with a certain complacency.
Mr. Bean looked up sharply.

"That means that nobody gets a show to abduct 'em while you're around, I
take it?" he inquired.

"We-ell, not exactly," she demurred.

"But that's the idea? I thought so. Yes. How old is Lizzie now? Thirty?"

"Oh, no, Cousin Lorando; L---- Elise isn't twenty-nine yet. Carolyn is
about thirty."

"I don't seem to recall any one chaperoning you and Hattie when you were
thirty," he suggested thoughtfully.

She laughed involuntarily.

"Oh, Hattie was married, Cousin Lorando, and the children were ten years
old! And, anyway, it was different then."

"The girls were just as pretty, I guess," he insisted. "And there were
plenty of buggies, if anybody had designs."

There was a pause, and the buzz of voices from the other room rose
loudly.

"They've neither of them got their mother's looks," he observed; and
then, with apparent irrelevance: "When will they be considered safe to
go about alone?"

"I don't know exactly what you mean," she began a little coldly, but his
laugh reassured her.

"Oh, ye