another
question. We were at a family supper party last night at an aunt's
house. She is a character too; a kind of a grenadier of a woman, in
nature, not looks. The house and the entertainment were very
interesting to me; the mingling of things was very striking, that one
does not expect to find in connection. For instance, the appointments
of the table were, as of course they would be, of no pretension to
style or elegance; clumsily comfortable, was all you could say. And the
cooking was delicately fine. Then, manners and language were somewhat
lacking in polish, to put it mildly; and the tone of thought and the
qualities of mind and character exhibited were very far above what I
have heard often in circles of great pretension. Once the conversation
got upon the contrasting ways of life in this society and in what is
called the world; the latter, I confess to you, met with some hard
treatment; and the idea was rejected with scorn that one of the girls
should ever be tempted out of her own sphere into the other. All this
is of no consequence; but what struck me was a hint or two that Lois
_had been_ tempted; and a pretty plain assertion that this aunt, who it
seems was at Appledore last summer nursing Mrs. Wishart, had received
some sort of overture or advance on Lois's behalf, and had rejected it.
This was evidently news to Lois; and she showed so much startled
displeasure--in her face, for she said almost nothing--that the
suspicion was forced upon me, there might have been more in the matter
than the aunt knew. Who was at Appledore? a friend of yours, was it
not? and are you _sure_ he did not gain some sort of lien upon this
heart which you are so keen to win? I owe it to you to set you upon
this inquiry; for if I know anything of the girl, she is as true and as
unbending as steel. What she holds she will hold; what she loves she
will love, I believe, to the end. So, before we go any further, let us
find whether we have ground to go on. No, I would not have you come
here at present. Not in any case; and certainly not in this
uncertain'ty. You are too wise to wish it."

Whether Philip were too wise to wish it, he was too wise to give the
rein to his wishes. He stayed in New York all winter, contenting
himself with sending to Shampuashuh every imaginable thing that could
make Mrs. Barclay's life there pleasant, or help her to make it useful
to her two young friends. A fine Chickering piano arrived between
Christ