HANK you!" said Miss Cosslit, blushing.

"She's one of my great enthusiasms, you know."

"And I have a question, too," urged Mrs. Lora Rewbush, after a moment's
hasty concentration. "'I've never been able to settle it for myself, but
NOW----"

"Yes?" said Mr. Kinosling encouragingly.

"Is--ah--is--oh, yes: Is Sanskrit a more difficult language than
Spanish, Mr. Kinosling?"

"It depends upon the student," replied the oracle smiling. "One must not
look for linguists everywhere. In my own especial case--if one may cite
one's self as an example--I found no great, no insurmountable difficulty
in mastering, in conquering either."

"And may _I_ ask one?" ventured Mrs. Bassett. "Do you think it is right
to wear egrets?"

"There are marks of quality, of caste, of social distinction," Mr.
Kinosling began, "which must be permitted, allowed, though perhaps
regulated. Social distinction, one observes, almost invariably
implies spiritual distinction as well. Distinction of circumstances
is accompanied by mental distinction. Distinction is hereditary; it
descends from father to son, and if there is one thing more true
than 'Like father, like son,' it is--" he bowed gallantly to Mrs.
Bassett--"it is, 'Like mother, like son.' What these good ladies have
said this afternoon of YOUR----"

This was the fatal instant. There smote upon all ears the voice of
Georgie, painfully shrill and penetrating--fraught with protest and
protracted, strain. His plain words consisted of the newly sanctioned
and disinfected curse with a big H.

With an ejaculation of horror, Mrs. Bassett sprang to the window and
threw open the blinds.

Georgie's back was disclosed to the view of the tea-party. He was
endeavouring to ascend a maple tree about twelve feet from the window.
Embracing the trunk with arms and legs, he had managed to squirm to a
point above the heads of Penrod and Herman, who stood close by, watching
him earnestly--Penrod being obviously in charge of the performance.
Across the yard were Sam Williams and Maurice Levy, acting as a jury on
the question of voice-power, and it was to a complaint of theirs that
Georgie had just replied.

"That's right, Georgie," said Penrod encouragingly. "They can, too, hear
you. Let her go!"

"Going to heaven!" shrieked Georgie, squirming up another inch. "Going
to heaven, heaven, heaven!"

His mother's frenzied attempts to attract his attention failed utterly.
Georgie was using the full power of hi