ing seems
to be a kind of imitation."

"How?"

"Oh, the way things go on--the steeple-chasing and fox-hunting, and the
carts, and the style of the swell entertainments. Is that ill-natured?"

"Not at all. I like candor, especially English candor. But there is Miss
Eschelle."

Carmen drove up with Count Crispo, threw the reins to the groom, and
reached the ground with a touch on the shoulder of the count, who had
alighted to help her down.

"Carmen," said Margaret, "Mr. Ponsonby says that all Newport is just an
imitation."

"Of course it is. We are all imitations, except Count Crispo. I'll bet a
cup of tea against a pair of gloves," said Carmen, who had facility in
picking up information, "that Mr. Ponsonby wasn't born in England."

Mr. Ponsonby looked redder than usual, and then laughed, and said, "Well,
I was only three years old when I left Halifax."

"I knew it!" cried Carmen, clapping her hands. "Now come in and have a
cup of English breakfast tea. That's imitation, too."

"The mistake you made," said Margaret, "was not being born in Spain."

"Perhaps it's not irreparable," the count interposed, with an air of
gallantry.

"No, no," said Carmen, audaciously; "by this time I should be buried in
Seville. No, I should prefer Halifax, for it would have been a pleasure
to emigrate from Halifax. Was it not, Mr. Ponsonby?"

"I can't remember. But it is a pleasure to sojourn in any land with Miss
Eschelle."

"Thank you. Now you shall have two cups. Come."

The next morning, Mr. Jerry Hollowell, having inquired where Margaret was
staying, called to pay his respects, as he phrased it. Carmen, who was
with Margaret in the morning-room, received him with her most
distinguished manner. "We all know Mr. Hollowell," she said.

"That's not always an advantage," retorted Uncle Jerry, seating himself,
and depositing his hat beside his chair. "When do you expect your
husband, Mrs. Henderson?"

"Tomorrow. But I don't mean to tell him that you are here--not at first."

"No," said Carmen; "we women want Mr. Henderson a little while to
ourselves."

Why, I'm the idlest man in America. I tell Henderson that he ought to
take more time for rest. It's no good to drive things. I like quiet."

"And you get it in Newport?" Margaret asked.

"Well, my wife and children get what they call quiet. I guess a month of
it would use me up. She says if I had a place here I'd like it. Perhaps
so. You are very comfortably fixed, Miss