but I am sure it was
a mile."

Mrs. Yorke was shocked, and charged Alice with being susceptible enough
to like all men.

"All those who are strong and good-looking," protested Alice.

Their little difference had now been made up, and Alice, who had been
sitting silent, with a look of serious reflection on her face, said:

"Mamma, why don't you invite him over to dinner?"

Mrs. Yorke gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Why, Alice, we know nothing about him."

But the girl was insistent.

"Why, mamma, I am sure he is a gentleman. Dr. Balsam said he was one of
the best people about here, and his father was a clergyman. Besides, he
is very interesting. His father was in the war; I believe he was
a general."

Mrs. Yorke pondered a moment, her pen in the air. Her thoughts flew to
New York and her acquaintances there. Their view was her gauge.

"Well," she said doubtfully, "perhaps, later I will; there is no one
here whom we know except Mrs. Nailor. I have heard that the people are
very interesting if you can get at them. I'll invite him first to
luncheon Saturday, and see how he is."

It is, doubtless, just as well that none of us has the magic mirror
which we used to read of in our childhood, which showed what any one we
wished to know about was doing. It would, no doubt, cause many
perplexities from which, in our ignorance, we are happily free. Had
Gordon Keith known the terms on which he was invited to take a meal in
the presence of Mrs. Yorke, he would have been incensed. He had been
fuming about her condescension ever since he had met her; yet he no
sooner received her polite note than he was in the best humor possible.
He brushed up his well-worn clothes, treated himself to a new necktie,
which he had been saving all the session, and just at the appointed hour
presented himself with a face so alight with expectancy, and a manner
which, while entirely modest, was so natural and easy, that Mrs. Yorke
was astonished. She could scarcely credit the fact that this bright-eyed
young man, with his fine nose, firm chin, and melodious voice, was the
same with the dusty, hot-faced, dishevelled-looking country boy to whom
she had thought of offering money for a kindness two days before.

When Keith first entered the room Alice Yorke was seated in a
reclining-chair, enveloped in soft white, from which she gave him a
smiling greeting. For years afterwards, whenever Gordon Keith thought of
beauty it was of a girl smilin