unsel with her
friend Mrs. Follingsbee, who had lived in Paris, and been to balls at
the Tuileries. Of course, it was a tip-top New-York-Paris party, with
all the new, fashionable, unspeakable crinkles and wrinkles, all the
high, divine, spick and span new ways of doing things; which,
however, like the Eleusinian mysteries, being in their very nature
incommunicable except to the elect, must be left to the imagination.

A French _artiste_, whom Mrs. Follingsbee patronized as "my
confectioner," came in state to Springdale, with a retinue of
appendages and servants sufficient for a circus; took formal
possession of the Seymour mansion, and became, for the time being,
absolute dictator, as was customary in the old Roman Republic in times
of emergency.

Mr. Follingsbee was forward, fussy, and advisory, in his own peculiar
free-and-easy fashion; and Mrs. Follingsbee was instructive and
patronizing to the very last degree. Lillie had bewailed in her
sympathizing bosom John's unaccountable and most singular moral
Quixotism in regard to the wine question, and been comforted by her
appreciative discourse. Mrs. Follingsbee had a sort of indefinite
faith in French phrases for mending all the broken places in life. A
thing said partly in French became at once in her view elucidated,
even though the words meant no more than the same in English; so she
consoled Lillie as follows:--

"Oh, _ma chere_! I understand perfectly: your husband may be '_un peu
borne_' as they say in Paris, but still '_un homme tres respectable_'
(Mrs. Follingsbee here scraped her throat emphatically, just as her
French maid did),--a sublime example of the virtues; and let me tell
you, darling, you are very fortunate to get such a man. It is not
often that a woman can get an establishment like yours, and a good man
into the bargain; so, if the goodness is a little _ennuyeuse_, one
must put up with it. Then, again, people of old established standing
may do about what they like socially: their position is made. People
only say, 'Well, that is their way; the Seymours will do so and so.'
Now, we have to do twice as much of every thing to make our position,
as certain other people do. We might flood our place with champagne
and Burgundy, and get all the young fellows drunk, as we generally
do; and yet people will call our parties '_bourgeois_' and yours
'_recherche_', if you give them nothing but tea and biscuit. Now,
there's my Dick: he respects your husband; y