id
that only servants said that."

"Well, what did he say?"

"Said that that proved that servants sometimes had better manners than
their masters."

"Well, I must say, I think he was excessively rude!" asserted Mrs.
Yorke, picking up her fan and beginning to fan rapidly.

"That's what I said; but he said he did not see how it could be rude to
state a simple and impersonal fact in a perfectly respectful way."

Alice was warming up in defence and swept on.

"He said the new fashion was due to people who were not sure of their
own position, and were afraid others might think them servile if they
employed such terms."

"What does he know about fashion?"

"He says fashion is a temporary and shifting thing, sometimes caused by
accident and sometimes made by tradesmen, but that good manners are the
same to-day that they were hundreds of years ago, and that though the
ways in which they are shown change, the basis is always the same, being
kindness and gentility."

Mrs. Yorke gasped.

"Well, I must say, you seem to have learned your lesson!" she exclaimed.

Alice had been swept on by her memory not only of the words she was
repeating, but of many conversations and interchanges of thought Gordon
Keith and she had had during the past weeks, in which he had given her
new ideas. She began now, in a rather low and unsteady voice, her hands
tightly clasped, her eyes in her lap:

"Mamma, I believe I like him very much--better than I shall ever--"

"Nonsense, Alice! Now, I will not have any of this nonsense. I bring you
down here for your health, and you take up with a perfectly obscure
young countryman about whom you know nothing in the world, and--"

"I know all about him, mamma. I know he is a gentleman. His
grandfather--"

"You know _nothing_ about him," asserted Mrs. Yorke, rising. "You may be
married to a man for years and know very little of him. How can you know
about this boy? You will go back and forget all about him in a week."

"I shall never forget him, mamma," said Alice, in a low tone, thinking
of the numerous promises she had made to the same effect within the
past few days.

"Fiddlesticks! How often have you said that? A half-dozen times at
least. There's Norman and Ferdy Wickersham and--"

"I have not forgotten them," said Alice, a little impressed by her
mother's argument.

"Of course, you have not. I don't think it's right, Alice, for you to be
so--susceptible and shallow. At least once ever