is
a sport and no mistake. She's all right. I imagined she was made of
different stuff from other women, and do you know I sort of suspected
that she hadn't all the money that your mother thought she had. She was
too refined and showed good blood. Had she been so wealthy, from her
dressing people might have taken her for a miser, and gentle folks are
seldom misers. I thought that it was necessity that caused her to wear
those old-fashioned clothes, so I argued that though Mrs. Hollister
imagined her wealthy and that you were in a line to inherit her money
there was a great mistake somewhere. But pshaw! as for that every mother
is ambitious for her daughter. Why, my mother left no stone unturned
until she had married Edith to Lord Ashurst, and I must admit that I was
easily led by my mother. Why, I've been out for a rich wife ever since I
left school; but, Ethel, I've changed. Now I propose to pay my bills with
the money I earn, not with hers; nor shall I allow her to buy what she
wears."

"Does your mother realize how you feel?" asked Ethel, pushing her fair,
curling locks from her eyes.

"Bless you, yes. She and I had one long talk, and after it I tell you
there was something doing in the Bigelow family; but Nannie who has lots
of horse sense sided with me, and together we were too many for mother.
She saw that it was up to her to make the best of it and she did, but
like your mother she still cherishes her ambitions. Nan said to her:

"'You have one daughter who has done the grand marriage stunt and she's
some class. Do let us choose for ourselves."

"What did your mother say to that?" laughed Ethel.

"I think she boxed Nannie's ears and then apologized. She loses her
self-control sometimes. Poor mother," and Harvey laughed. "Nannie has
some temper, too, and don't you make any mistake."

Ethel was beginning to have a real friendly feeling for Harvey. He asked
many questions about her cousin Kate.

"She rings true," he said. "I liked her from the first."

"She _is_ true," replied Ethel. "You'll see her this summer, and I'm sure
you'll like Uncle John and his wife. He's just a dear."

Those were red letter days for Ethel. She enjoyed the air, the
scenery, and the rides; and she enjoyed talking to Harvey, for now
that he understood she could talk to him as though he were one of
the family--without restriction and without embarrassment.

"What puzzles me," said Ethel, "is the way our mothers argue. When they