her mother--not only because she was a more serious nature,
but because they were both young, and youth is not free with youth
except by slow and cautious degrees. In that little space of time
they talked of pictures, 'a propos' of some on the wall, and of books,
because of those on the table.

"Oh yes," said Mrs. Pasmer when they paused, and she felt that her piece
of difficult engineering had been quite successful, "Mrs. Saintsbury was
telling me what a wonderful connoisseur of etchings your father is."

"I believe he does know something about them," said the young man
modestly.

"And he's gone back already?"

"Oh yes. He never stays long away from my mother. I shall be going home
myself as soon as I get back from the race."

"And shall you spend the summer there?"

"Part of it. I always like to do that."

"Perhaps when you get away you'll come as far as Campobello--with Mr.
Boardman," she added.

"Has Boardman promised to go?" laughed Mavering. "He will promise
anything. Well, I'll come to Campobello if you'll come to New London. Do
come, Mrs. Pasmer!"

The mother stood watching the two young men from the window as they made
their way across the square together. She had now, for some reason; no
apparent scruple in being seen to do so.

"How ridiculous that stout little Mr. Boardman is with him!" said Mrs.
Pasmer. "He hardly comes up to his shoulder. Why in the world should he
have brought him?"

"I thought he was very pleasant," said the girl.

"Yes, yes, of course. And I suppose he'd have felt that it was rather
pointed coming alone."

"Pointed?"

"Young men are so queer! Did you like that kind of collar he had on?"

"I didn't notice it."

"So very, very high."

"I suppose he has rather a long neck."

"Well, what did you think of his urging us to go to the race? Do you
think he meant it? Do you think he intended it for an invitation?"

"I don't think he meant anything; or, if he did, I think he didn't know
what."

"Yes," said Mrs. Pasmer vaguely; "that must be what Mrs. Saintsbury
meant by the artistic temperament."

"I like people to be sincere, and not to say things they don't mean, or
don't know whether they mean or not," said Alice.

"Yes, of course, that's the best way," admitted Mrs. Pasmer. "It's the
only way," she added, as if it were her own invariable practice. Then
she added further, "I wonder what he did mean?"

She began to yawn, for after her simulation of vivid interest