k where people least expected.

"Don't you think that important?" said Margaret.

"Very. Only let them not, in addition, pretend to be what they are not."

"I don't think they do pretend."

"You're right, they're too self-complacent. They're quite satisfied with
themselves as they are."

"If they are satisfied, they are very much to be envied," began
Margaret.

"She's going to defend herself," thought Winthrop. "It's a wonder she
hasn't done so before; to save my life, I don't seem to be able to
resist attacking her."

But Margaret did not go on. She took up the last sprays and looked at
them. "Then you think I had better let her talk on, without checking
her," she said, returning to the original topic between them. "You think
I had better not try to guide her?"

"Refused again!" thought Winthrop. "Guide her to what?" he said, aloud.

"Not _to_ anything. Away--away from Lucian Spenser."

"Then you don't like him?" he said, questioningly.

"He is very handsome," answered Margaret, smiling.

"But that isn't what we're discussing, that isn't advice."

"Let her talk as she pleases--that is my advice; let her string out all
her adjectives. My idea is that, let alone, it will soon exhale;
opposition would force it into an importance which it does not in
reality possess. Are you going?"

"Yes, I have finished. But I shall remember what you say." And she left
the room, carrying the flowers with her.

Mrs. Thorne came up to Gracias, and called upon Mrs. Rutherford at the
eyrie. Her visits there had always been frequent, but this one had the
air of a visit of ceremony; it seemed intended as a formal expression of
her chastened acquiescence in the northern gentleman's projects
concerning East Angels.

"I have reserved the memories," she said, with expression.

"Yes, indeed; fond Memory brings to light, and so it will be with you,
Mistress Thorne," said Betty, who was spending the afternoon with her
Katrina; "you can always fall back on that, you know."

"Have you reserved old Pablo?" inquired Mrs. Rutherford. "He is a good
deal of a memory, isn't he?"

"I have reserved Pablo, and also Raquel; they will travel with us,"
replied Mrs. Thorne. "Raquel will act as my maid, Pablo as my
man-servant."

"They're _very_ southern," remarked Betty, shaking her head. "I doubt
whether they would get on well, living at the North. Raquel, you know,
has no system; she would as soon leave her work at any time and run and
m