, suddenly prudent and
rushing into the pretenses our transplanted and acclimatized sisters are
careful to make when talking with us of the land whence comes their sole
claim to foreign aristocratic consideration--their income. "I'm really
quite famous for my Americanism. I've done a great deal toward
establishing our ambassador at Paris in the best society. Coming from a
republic and to a republic that isn't recognized by our set in France, he
was having a hard time, though he and his wife are all right at home. Now
that there are more gentlemen in authority at Washington, our diplomats
are of a much better class than they used to be. Everyone over there says
so. Of course, you--that is we, are gradually becoming civilized and
building up an aristocracy."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Adelaide, feeling that she must change the
subject or show her exasperation, yet unable to find any subject which
Janet would not adorn with refined and cultured views. "Isn't Ross,
there, looking for you?"

He had just rushed from the house, his face, his manner violently
agitated. As he saw Adelaide looking at him, he folded and put in his
pocket a letter which seemed to be the cause of his agitation. When the
two young women came to where he was standing, he joined them and walked
up and down with them, his sister, between him and Del, doing all the
talking. Out of the corner of her eye Del saw that his gaze was bent
savagely upon the ground and that his struggle for self-control was still
on. At the first opportunity she said: "I must get mother. We'll have to
be going."

"Oh, no, not yet," urged Janet, sincerity strong in her affected accents.
Del felt that the sister, for some reason, as strongly wished not to be
left alone with the brother as the brother wished to be left alone with
the sister. In confirmation of this, Janet went on to say: "Anyhow, Ross
will tell your mother."

Ross scowled at his sister, made a hesitating, reluctant movement toward
the steps; just then Matilda and Ellen appeared. Adelaide saw that her
mother had succeeded in getting through Matilda's crust of sham and in
touch with her heart. At sight of her son Mrs. Whitney's softened
countenance changed--hardened, Adelaide thought--and she said to him
eagerly: "Any news, any letters?"

"This," answered Ross explosively. He jerked the letter from his pocket,
gave it to his mother.

"You'll excuse me--Ellen--Adelaide," said Matilda, as she unfolded the
paper