young men behind every bush.

"That young man--Mr. Keith," firmly.

"Oh!" said Alice. "With Mr. Keith? Yes, mamma?" Her color was changing
quickly now.

"Yes, I have had a quite--a very extraordinary conversation with Mr.
Keith." As Mrs. Yorke drifted again into reflection, Alice was
compelled to ask:

"What about, mamma?"

"About you."

"About me? What about me?" Her face was belying her assumed innocence.

"Alice, I hope you are not going to behave foolishly. I cannot believe
for a minute that you would--a girl brought up as you have been--so far
forget yourself--would allow yourself to become interested in a
perfectly unknown and ignorant and obscure young man."

"Why, mamma, he is not ignorant; he knows more than any one I ever
saw,--why, he has read piles of books I never even heard of,--and his
family is one of the best and oldest in this country. His grandfathers
or great-grandfathers were both signers of the Decla--"

"I am not talking about that," interrupted Mrs. Yorke, hastily. "I must
say you appear to have studied his family-tree pretty closely."

"Dr. Balsam told me," interjected Alice.

"Dr. Balsam had very little to talk of. I am talking of his being
unknown."

"But I believe he will be known some day. You don't know how clever and
ambitious he is. He told me--"

But Mrs. Yorke had no mind to let Alice dwell on what he had told her.
He was too good an advocate.

"Stuff! I don't care what he told you! Alice, he is a perfectly unknown
and untrained young--creature. All young men talk that way. He is
perfectly gauche and boorish in his manner--"

"Why, mamma, he has beautiful manners!" exclaimed Alice "I heard a lady
saying the other day he had the manners of a Chesterfield."

"Chester-nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Yorke.

"I think he has, too, mamma."

"I don't agree with you," declared Mrs. Yorke, energetically. "How would
he appear in New York? Why, he wears great heavy shoes, and his neckties
are something dreadful."

"His neckties are bad," admitted Alice, sadly.

Mrs. Yorke, having discovered a breach in her adversary's defences, like
a good general directed her attack against it.

"He dresses horribly; he wears his hair like a--countryman; and his
manners are as antiquated as his clothes. Think of him at the opera or
at one of Mrs. Wentworth's receptions! He says 'madam' and 'sir' as if
he were a servant."

"I got after him about that once," said the girl, reflectively. "I sa