you had on a pair of new slippers, as I have." The
Colonel waived discussion, and took up another part of her answer.

"You say they fall into our ways as if they had been born here," he
began. "Doesn't it occur to you that they may find them perfectly
natural?"

"No, it does not at all. Think of it. Struggling against the savageness
of man and nature must have roughened our manners a little, just as
working on the ground roughens one's hands. It is healthy exercise; but,
then, it tells, and we must expect that." She looked at her husband with
such serenity as she spoke that he had no difficulty in remembering that
she was the granddaughter of a Scottish earl and that he had been proud
to give his children a lady for their mother. It seemed odd to him that
both she and Stephen should have such an air of high birth, and yet be
so indifferent to its prerogatives, so unambitious. "It is their good
breeding;" she went on, "if you put them out into the wigwams they would
make the Indians feel that eating with one's fingers was quite a thing
to be enjoyed."

It was cruel; perhaps the speaker did not realize how cruel. But, then,
she knew that the Colonel was thoroughly padded with vanity and that it
must be a very skilful thrust, and a very vigorous one, that could wound
him fatally.

"Faith," he began after a pause, "you have never been abroad, you have
not observed as I have done, you--." He was gaining importance and
impressiveness of tone as he went on; it was a pity that the sound of
wheels and of horses' hoofs in the avenue interrupted what would have
been one of his best presentations of the subject and have put him into
an impregnable position. As it was, he had but to imagine himself there
and forget his wife's opinion, which he did not find any difficulty in
doing. The wheels were those of Colonel Pepperell's carriage; put
together with English thoroughness, it had all the weight and
unwieldiness of vehicles of that time. Lady Dacre, Elizabeth, and Mrs.
Eveleigh descended from it; they had been spending the morning together.
Sir Temple, Edmonson, Bulchester, and their host, on horseback, came
galloping up as the carriage stopped. They had taken a longer and
pleasanter road and had arrived on the moment. Sir Temple alighted with
his face beaming with pleasure, for he had enjoyed the exercise. Lady
Dacre had never looked better, and she had seen something more of
provincial life and ways. He meant to travel over