dways came up once in a while to the house in Shubarton
Place, and made an evening call. He seemed to take apricot-color for
granted, when he got there, as much as he did the plain, old,
unrelieved brown at Mrs. Ripwinkley's; he sat quite unconcernedly in
the grand easy chair that Laura wheeled out for him; indeed, it
seemed as if he really, after a manner, indorsed everything by his
acceptance without demur of what he found. But then one must sit
down on something; and if one is offered a cup of coffee, or
anything on a plate, one cannot easily protest against sea-green
china. We do, and we have, and we wear, and we say, a great
many things, and feel ourselves countenanced and confirmed,
somehow,--perhaps excused,--because nobody appears surprised or says
anything. But what should they say; and would it be at all proper
that they should be surprised? If we only thought of it, and once
tried it, we might perhaps find it quite as easy and encouraging, on
the same principle, _not_ to have apricot rep and sea-green china.

One night Mr. Oldways was with them when the talk turned eastwardly
over the water. There were new names in the paper, of people who
had gone out in the _Aleppo_, and a list of Americans registered at
Bowles Brothers,' among whom were old acquaintance.

"I declare, how they all keep turning up there" said Mrs. Ledwith.

"The war doesn't seem to make much difference," said her husband.

"To think how lucky the Vonderbargens were, to be in Paris just at
the edge of the siege!" said Glossy Megilp. "They came back from
Como just in time; and poor Mr. Washburne had to fairly hustle them
off at last. They were buying silks, and ribbons, and gloves, up to
the last minute, for absolutely nothing. Mrs. Vonderbargen said it
seemed a sin to come away and leave anything. I'm sure I don't know
how they got them all home; but they did."

Glossy had been staying lately with the Vonderbargens in New York.
She stayed everywhere, and picked up everything.

"You have been abroad, Mrs. Scherman?" said Mrs. Ledwith,
inquiringly, to Asenath, who happened to be calling, also, with her
husband, and was looking at some photographs with Desire.

"No, ma'am," answered Mrs. Scherman, very promptly, not having
spoken at all before in the discussion. "I do not think I wish to
go. The syphon has been working too long."

"The Syphon?"

Mrs. Ledwith spoke with a capital S in her mind; but was not quite
sure whether what Mrs.