ave it any longer."

"Miss it!" said Madge, half angrily. "I might _miss_ it, as I might
miss any pleasant thing; but I could stand that. I'm not a chicken just
out of the egg. I have missed things before now, and it hasn't killed
me."

"Don't think I am foolish, Madge. It isn't a question of how much you
can stand. But the men like--like this one--are so pleasant with their
graceful, smooth ways, that country girls like you and me might easily
be drawn on, without knowing it, further than they want to go."

"He does not want to draw anybody on!" said Madge indignantly.

"That's the very thing. You might think--or I might think--that
pleasant manner means something; and it don't mean anything."

"I don't want it to 'mean anything,' as you say; but what has our being
country girls to do with it?"

"We are not accustomed to that sort of society, and so it makes, I
suppose, more impression. And what might mean something to others,
would not to us. From such men, I mean."

"What do you mean by 'such men'?" asked Madge, who was getting rather
excited.

"Rich--fashionable--belonging to the great world, and having the ways
of it. You know what Mr. Dillwyn is like. It is not what we have in
Shainpuashuh."

"But, Lois!--what are you talking about? I don't care a red cent for
all this, but I want to understand. You said such a manner would mean
nothing to _us_."

"Yes."

"Why not to us, as well as anybody else?"

"Because we are nobodies, Madge."

"What do you mean?" said the other hotly.

"Just that. It is quite true. You are nobody, and I am nobody. You see,
if we were somebody, it would be different."

"If you think--I'll tell you what, Lois! I think you are fit to be the
wife of the best man that lives and breathes."

"I think so myself," Lois returned quietly.

"And I am."

"I think you are, Madge. But that makes no difference. My dear, we are
nobody."

"How?"--impatiently. "Isn't our family as respectable as anybody's?
Haven't we had governors and governors, of Massachusetts and
Connecticut both; and judges and ministers, ever so many, among our
ancestors? And didn't a half-dozen of 'em, or more, come over in the
'Mayflower'?"

"Yes, Madge; all true; and I am as glad of it as you are."

"Then you talk nonsense!"

"No, I don't," said Lois, sighing a little. "I have seen a little more
of the world than you have, you know, dear Madge; not very much, but a
little more than you; and I know what I a