nations, but had a great liking for
tree-shadowed asphalte, for the results of elaborate horticulture,
for the repose and the quiet of villadom.

'I should like to have a house just like this,' she declared, on her
first evening at "Runnymede," talking with her host and hostess out
in the garden. 'It's quite big enough, unless, of course, you have a
very large family, which must be rather a bore.' She laughed
ingenuously. 'And one gets to town so easily. What do you pay for
your season-ticket, Mr. Mumford? Oh, well! that isn't much. I almost
think I shall get one.'

'Do you wish to go up very often, then?' asked Emmeline, reflecting
on her new responsibilities.

'Oh! not every day, of course. But a season-ticket saves the bother
each time, and you have a sort of feeling, you know, that you can be
in town whenever you like.'

It had not hitherto been the Mumfords' wont to dress for dinner, but
this evening they did so, and obviously to Miss Derrick's
gratification. She herself appeared in a dress which altogether
outshone that of her hostess. Afterwards, in private, she drew
Emmeline's attention to this garb, and frankly asked her opinion of
it.

'Very nice indeed,' murmured the married lady, with a good-natured
smile. 'Perhaps a little--'

'There, I know what you're going to say. You think it's too showy.
Now I want you to tell me just what you think about
everything--everything. I shan't be offended. I'm not so silly. You
know I've come here to learn all sorts of things. To-morrow you
shall go over all my dresses with me, and those you don't like I'll
get rid of. I've never had anyone to tell me what's nice and what
isn't. I want to be--oh, well, you know what I mean.'

'But, my dear,' said Emmeline, 'there's something I don't quite
understand. You say I'm to speak plainly, and so I will. How is it
that you haven't made friends long ago with the sort of people you
wish to know? It isn't as if you were in poor circumstances.'

'How _could_ I make friends with nice people when I was ashamed to
have them at home? The best I know are quite poor--girls I went to
school with. They're much better educated than I am, but they make
their own living, and so I can't see very much of them, and I'm not
sure they want to see much of _me_. I wish I knew what people think
of me; they call me vulgar, I believe--the kind I'm speaking of.
Now, do tell me, Mrs. Mumford, _am_ I vulgar?'

'My dear Miss Derrick--' Emmeline began