time to talk, I never heard people talk
as they do. They all kissed me when I went away, and came down the steps
with me. And Mrs. Scherer went into the conservatory and picked a huge
bouquet. There it is," she said, laughingly, pointing to several vases.
"I separated the colours as well as I could when I got home. We had
coffee, and the most delicious German cakes in the Turkish room, or the
Moorish room, whichever it is. I'm sure I shan't be able to eat anything
more for days. When do you wish to have them for dinner?"

"Well," I said, "we ought to have time to get the right people to meet
them. We'll ask Nancy and Ham."

Maude opened her eyes.

"Nancy! Do you think Nancy would like them?"

"I'm going to give her a chance, anyway," I replied....

It was, in some ways, a memorable dinner. I don't know what I expected in
Mrs. Scherer--from Maude's description a benevolent and somewhat stupid,
blue-eyed German woman, of peasant extraction. There could be no doubt
about the peasant extraction, but when she hobbled into our little
parlour with the aid of a stout, gold-headed cane she dominated it. Her
very lameness added to a distinction that evinced itself in a dozen ways.
Her nose was hooked, her colour high,--despite the years in
Steelville,--her peculiar costume heightened the effect of her
personality; her fire-lit black eyes bespoke a spirit accustomed to rule,
and instead of being an aspirant for social honours, she seemed to confer
them. Conversation ceased at her entrance.

"I'm sorry we are late, my dear," she said, as she greeted Maude
affectionately, "but we have far to come. And this is your husband!" she
exclaimed, as I was introduced. She scrutinized me. "I have heard
something of you, Mr. Paret. You are smart. Shall I tell you the smartest
thing you ever did?" She patted Maude's shoulder. "When you married your
wife--that was it. I have fallen in love with her. If you do not know it,
I tell you."

Next, Nancy was introduced.

"So you are Mrs. Hambleton Durrett?"

Nancy acknowledged her identity with a smile, but the next remark was a
bombshell.

"The leader of society."

"Alas!" exclaimed Nancy, "I have been accused of many terrible things."

Their glances met. Nancy's was amused, baffling, like a spark in amber.
Each, in its way, was redoubtable. A greater contrast between two women
could scarcely have been imagined. It was well said (and not snobbishly)
that generations had been required to