be called young, could not have a safer and more sympathetic social
adviser. Why are not all handsome women cordial, good-tempered,
and well-bred! And there were the Ashleys--clever mother and three
daughters, au-fait girls, racy and witty talkers; I forget whether they
were last from Paris, Washington, or San Francisco. Family motto: "Don't
be dull." All the Van Dams from New York, and the Sleiderheifers and
Mulligrubs of New Jersey, were there for the season, some of them in
cottages. These families are intimate, even connected by marriage, with
the Bayardiers of South Carolina and the Lontoons of Louisiana. The
girls are handsome, dashing women, without much information, but
rattling talkers, and so exclusive! and the young men, with a Piccadilly
air, fancy that they belong to the "Prince of Wales set," you know.
There is a good deal of monarchical simplicity in our heterogeneous
society.

Mrs. Cortlandt was quite in her element here as director-general of
expeditions and promoter of social activity. "I have been expecting
you," she was kind enough to say to Mr. King the morning after his
arrival. "Kitty Van Sanford spied you last night, and exclaimed, 'There,
now, is a real reinforcement!' You see that you are mortgaged already."

"It's very kind of you to expect me. Is there anybody else here I know?"

"Several hundreds, I should say. If you cannot find friends here, you
are a subject for an orphan-asylum. And you have not seen anybody?"

"Well, I was late at breakfast."

"And you have not looked on the register?"

"Yes, I did run my eye over the register."

"And you are standing right before me and trying to look as if you did
not know that Irene Benson is in the house. I didn't think, Mr. King, it
had gone that far-indeed I didn't. You know I'm in a manner responsible
for it. And I heard all about you at Newport. She's a heart of gold,
that girl."

"Did she--did Miss Benson say anything about Newport?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, I didn't know but she might have mentioned how she liked it."

"I don't think she liked it as much as her mother did. Mrs. Benson talks
of nothing else. Irene said nothing special to me. I don't know what she
may have said to Mr. Meigs," this wily woman added, in the most natural
manner.

"Who is Mr. Meigs?"

"Mr. Alfred Meigs, Boston. He is a rich widower, about forty--the most
fascinating age for a widower, you know. I think he is conceited, but
he is really a most entertaining