all the nice suburbs have their social
relations in town. They wouldn't take the slightest
interest in English institutions; my father is too good
a citizen to make a good subject, and they would find a
great many English ideas very--trying. The only Americans
who are happy in England are the millionaires," Elfrida
answered. "I mean the millionaires who are not too
sensitive."

"Well now, you've got as sensitive a nature as I know,
Miss Bell, and you don't appear to be miserable over
here."

"I!" Elfrida frowned just perceptibly. This little creature
who once corrected the punctuation of her essays, and
gave her bad marks for spelling, was too intolerably
personal. "We won't consider my case, if you please.
Perhaps I'm not a good American."

"Mrs. Bell seems to think she would enjoy the atmosphere
of the past so much in London."

"It's a fatal atmosphere for asthma. Please impress that
upon my people, Miss Kimpsey. There would be no
justification in letting my mother believe she could be
comfortable here. She must come and experience the,
atmosphere of the past, as you are doing, on a visit. As
soon as it can be afforded I hope they will do that."

Since the day of her engagement with the _Illustrated
Age_ Elfrida had been writing long, affectionate, and
prettily worded letters to her mother by every American
mail. They were models of sweet elegance, those letters;
they abounded in dainty bits of description and gay
comment, and they reflected as little of the real life
of the girl who wrote them as it is possible to conceive.
In this way they were quite remarkable, and in their
charming discrimination of topics. It was as if Elfrida
dictated that a certain relation should exist between
herself and her parents. It should acknowledge all the
traditions, but it should not be too intimate. They had
no such claim upon her, no such closeness to her, as
Nadie Palicsky, for instance, had.

When Miss Kimpsey went away that afternoon, trying to
realize the intrinsic reward of virtue--she had been
obliged to give up the National Gallery to make this
visit--Elfrida remembered that the American mail went
out next day, and spent a longer time than usual over
her weekly letter. In its course she mentioned with some
amusement the absurd idea Miss Kimpsey had managed to
absorb of their coming to London to live, and touched in
the lightest possible way upon the considerations that
made such a project impossible. But the