linging to our heritage of
independent thought--of accepting the truth of the ancient order of
things without allowing its lies and demerits to enslave us."

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Taylor. "She certainly does not belong to the
dangerous class of whom you were speaking. I was flattering myself that
neither did I, for I was agreeing with all you said as to the need of
cherishing our native originality. Yet I must confess that now that you
compare me with her (the actual comparison is my own, but you instigated
it), I begin to feel more doubts about myself--that is if she is the
true species, and I'm inclined to think she is. Pray excuse this
indirect method of answering your inquiry; it is in the nature of a
soliloquy; it is an airing of thoughts and doubts which have been
harassing me for a fortnight--ever since I knew Mrs. Babcock. Really,
Mr. Littleton, I can tell you very little about her. She is a new-comer
on the horizon of Benham; she has been married very recently; I believe
she has taught school and that she was brought up not far from here. She
is as proud as Lucifer and sometimes as beautiful; she is profoundly
serious and--and apparently very ignorant. I fancy she is clever and
capable in her way, but I admit she is an enigma to me and that I have
not solved it. I can see she does not approve of me altogether. She
regards me with suspicion, and yet she threw the casting vote in favor
of my proposal to open the competition for the church to architects from
other places. I am trying to like her, for I wish to believe in
everything genuinely American if I can. There, I have told you all I
know, and to a man she may seem altogether attractive and inspiring."

"Thank you. I had no conception that I was broaching such a complex
subject. She sounds interesting, and my curiosity is whetted. You have
not mentioned the husband."

"To be sure. A burly, easy-going manufacturer of varnish, without much
education, I should judge. He is manifestly her inferior in half a dozen
ways, but I understand that he is making money, and he looks kind."

Wilbur Littleton's life since he had come to man's estate had been a
struggle, and he was only just beginning to make headway. He had never
had time to commiserate himself, for necessity on the one hand and
youthful ambition on the other had kept his energies tense and his
thoughts sane and hopeful. He and his sister Pauline, a year his senior,
had been left orphans while both we