.'"

"Yes."

"Why don't you say 'potahto'?"

"Because nobody does."

"Well, nobody that was born out here says 'dahnce' and 'cahn't.'"

"But she's been East and in Europe, and--where's the harm of it, anyway?
What's your objection to the soft 'a'?"

"It's all right for those that are used to it."

"But you say 'father.' Why don't you say 'rather' to rhyme with it?"

"Don't be foolish."

"I'm trying not to be."

"Well, then, don't try to convince me that Em Terriberry is a wonderful
creature because she's picked up a lot of foreign mannerisms and comes
home thinking she's better than the rest of us. We'll show her--the
conceited thing! Her own father and mother are ashamed of her, and
Arthur is so disgusted the poor boy doesn't know what to do. I think he
ought to give her a good talking to or break off the engagement."

Orson sank back stunned at the ferocity of her manner. He beheld how
great a matter a little fire kindleth. It was so natural to him to speak
as Miss Terriberry spoke that he could not understand the hatred the
alien "a" and the suppressed "r" could evoke among those native to the
flat vowel and the protuberant consonant. He was yet to learn to what
lengths disputes could go over quirks of speech.

III

The very "talking to" that Tudie believed her brother ought to give his
betrothed he was giving her at that moment at the other end of the
porch. Arthur had hesitated to attempt the reproof. It was not pleasant
to broach the subject, and he knew that it was dangerous, since Em was
high-spirited. Even when she expressed a wonder at the coolness of
everybody's behavior he could not find the courage for the lecture
seething in his indignant heart.

He was worrying through a perfunctory consolation: "Oh, you just imagine
that people are cold to you, Em. Everybody's tickled to death to have
you home. You see, Em--"

"I wish you wouldn't call me Em," she said.

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"It's a part of my old name; but I've changed Emma to Amelie. After this
I want to be called Amelie."

If she had announced her desire to wear trousers on the street, or to
smoke a pipe in church, or even to go in for circus-riding, he could not
have been more appalled than he was at what she said.

"Amelie?" he gasped. "What in the name of--of all that's sensible is
that for?"

"I hate Em. It's ugly. It sounds like a letter of the alphabet. I like
Amelie better. It's pretty and I choose it."

"