mber; it is a far less important
matter. A true gentlewoman may be ignorant; but a true gentlewoman will
never be inconsiderate."

Elisabeth hung her head. "I see."

"If you keep your thoughts fixed upon the people to whom you are
talking, and never upon yourself, you will always have good manners, my
child. Endeavour to interest and not to impress them."

"You mean I must talk about their things and not about mine?"

"More than that. Make the most of any common ground between yourself and
them; make the least of any difference between yourself and them; and,
above all, keep strenuously out of sight any real or fancied superiority
you may possess over them. I always think that Saint Paul's saying, 'To
the weak became I as weak,' was the perfection of good manners."

"I don't think I quite understand."

Miss Farringdon spoke in parables. "Then listen to this story. There was
once a common soldier who raised himself from the ranks and earned a
commission. He was naturally very nervous the first night he dined at
the officers' mess, as he had never dined with gentlemen before, and he
was afraid of making some mistake. It happened that the wine was served
while the soup was yet on the table, and with the wine the ice. The poor
man did not know what the ice was for, so took a lump and put it in his
soup."

Elisabeth laughed.

"The younger officers began to giggle, as you are doing," Miss
Farringdon continued; "but the colonel, to whom the ice was handed next,
took a lump and put it in his soup also; and then the young officers did
not want to laugh any more. The colonel was a perfect gentleman."

"It seems to me," said Elisabeth thoughtfully, "that you've got to be
good before you can be polite."

"Politeness appears to be what goodness really is," replied Miss
Farringdon, "and is an attitude rather than an action. Fine breeding is
not the mere learning of any code of manners, any more than gracefulness
is the mere learning of any kind of physical exercise. The gentleman
apparently, as the Christian really, looks not on his own things, but on
the things of others; and the selfish person is always both unchristian
and ill-bred."

Elisabeth gazed wistfully up into Miss Farringdon's face. "I should like
to be a real gentlewoman, Cousin Maria; do you think I ever shall be?"

"I think it quite possible, if you bear all these maxims in mind, and if
you carry yourself properly and never stoop. I can not approve of the