ful and pronounced
attire, entered, and seeing Donald exclaimed:

"Oh, papa, I did not know that you were busy with a client. Do excuse
me."

Then, observing the clerical attire of the "client," she came forward,
and extending her hand to Donald, exclaimed with a coy, insinuating
smile:

"I am sure that you must be Mr. Maxwell. I am so glad to see you. I
hope I am not interrupting professional confidences."

"Not in the least," Donald replied, as he placed a chair for her. "I
am very glad to have the pleasure of meeting you, Miss Bascom."

"I heard last night that you had arrived, Mr. Maxwell; and I am sure
that it is very good of you to come and see papa so soon. I hope to
see you at our house before long. You know that we are in the habit of
seeing a good deal of the rector, because--you will excuse my
frankness--because there are so few people of culture and refinement
in this town to make it pleasant for him."

"I am sure that you are very kind," Donald replied. Miss Bascom had
adjusted her tortoise-shell lorgnette, and was surveying Donald from
head to foot.

"Is your wife with you?" she inquired, as one who would say: "Tell me
no lies!"

"No, I am not married."

At once she was one radiant smile of welcome:

"Papa, we must do all we can to make Mr. Maxwell feel at home at
Willow Bluff--so that he will not get lonesome and desert us," she
added genially.

"You're very kind."

"You must come and dine with us very soon and see our place for
yourself. You are staying with Mrs. Burke, I understand."

"Yes."

"How does she impress you?"

"I hardly know her well enough to form any definite opinion of her,
though she has been kindness itself to me."

"Yes, she has a sharp tongue, but a kind heart; and she does a great
deal of good in the village; but, poor soul! she has no sense of
humor--none whatever. Then of course she is not in society, you know.
You will find, Mr. Maxwell, that social lines are very carefully drawn
in this town; there are so many grades, and one has to be careful, you
know."

"Is it so! How many people are there in the town?"

"Possibly eight or nine hundred."

"And how many of them are 'in society'?"

"Oh, I should imagine not more than twenty or thirty."

"They must be very select."

"Oh, we are; quite so."

"Don't you ever get tired of seeing the same twenty or thirty all the
time? I'm afraid I am sufficiently vulgar to like a change, once in a
while--somebody rea