ere rare;
but, as to foreign titles, they were used to them in the war, and now
they were common since a great influx of destitute French had set in,
and not all who came were to their liking.

"There," said the German one evening, kindling a great pipe, "enough of
politics, De Courval; you are of the insatiably curious. We are to dine
to-morrow at the fashionable hour of four with Mistress Wynne and the
maid, my Pearl. It is an occasion of some worthiness. She has come to
town for this feast, one of her freaks. Did ever you see a great
actress?"

"I?" said De Courval. "No, or yes--once, in France, Mademoiselle Mars.
We of the religion do not go to the theater. What actress do you speak
of?"

"Oh, women--all women; but to-morrow on the stage will be Miss Gainor,
become, by pretty courtesy of possibilities declined, Mistress Gainor by
brevet--"

De Courval, delighted, cried: "But your little Quaker lady--is she to
have a role? She seems to me very simple."

"Simple! Yes, here, or at meeting, I daresay. Thou shouldest see her
with Friend Waln. Her eyes humbly adore his shoe-buckles--no, his
shoe-ties--when he exhorts her to the preservation of plainness of
attire, and how through deep wading, and a living travail of soul, life
shall be uplifted to good dominion. It is a godly man, no doubt, and a
fine, ripe English he talks; and Arthur Howell, too."

"I must hear them."

"You will hear noble use of the great English speech. But best of all
are the Free Quakers, like Samuel Wetherill, an apostate, says Friend
Pennington with malignant sweetness, but for me a sterling, well-bred
gentle, if ever God made one. Ah, then the maid, all godliness and
grace, will take his hat and cane and, the head a bit aside, make eyes
at him. Ah, fie for shame! And how we purr and purr--actresses, oh, all
of them! There is the making of a Quaker _Juliet_ in that girl."

"One would scarce think it. My mother is _eprise_--oh, quite taken with
Miss Margaret, and now, I think, begins a little to understand this
household, so new and so wonderful to me and to her. But I meant to ask
you something. I have part paid the queer doctor, and the bill, I
suppose, is correct. It is long--"

"And large, no doubt."

"And what with a new gown my mother needs and some clothes I must
have--"

The German interrupted him. "De Courval, may I not help you, to whom I
owe a debt which can never be paid?"

"Oh, no, no. I shall soon have more wages." He