w a full measure of the ease and grace which come from the habit of
society, and which Lois herself had once admired in the ladies of his
family. "Ay, even _they_ wouldn't say she was nobody now!" he said to
himself bitterly. And Philip, he saw, was so accustomed to this fact,
that he took it as a matter of course.

"Where are you going after the AEggischhorn?" he went on, to say
something.

"We mean to work our way, by degrees, to Zermatt."

"_We_ are going to Zermatt," Mrs. Caruthers put in blandly. "We might
travel in company."

"Can you walk?" asked Philip, smiling.

"Walk!"

"Yes. We do it on foot."

"What for? Pray, pardon me! But are you serious?"

"I am in earnest, if that is what you mean. We do not look upon it in a
serious light. It's rather a jollification."

"It is far the pleasantest way, Mrs. Caruthers," Lois added.

"But do you travel without any baggage?"

"Not quite," said Lois demurely. "We generally send that on ahead,
except what will go in small satchels slung over the shoulder."

"And take what you can find at the little inns?"

"O yes; and fare very well."

"I like to be comfortable!" sighed the other lady. "Try that wine, and
see how much better it is."

"Thank you, no; I prefer the coffee."

"No use to ask _her_ to take wine," growled Tom. "I know she won't. She
never would. She has principles. Offer it to Mr. Dillwyn."

"You do me the honour to suppose me without principles," said Philip
dryly.

"I don't suppose you hold _her_ principles," said Tom, indicating Lois
rather awkwardly by the pronoun rather than in any more definite way.
"You never used."

"Quite true; I never used. But I do it now."

"Do you mean that you have given up drinking wine?"

"I have given it up?" said Philip, smiling at Tom's air, which was
almost of consternation.

"Because she don't like it?"

"I hope I would give up a greater thing than that, if she did not like
it," said Philip gravely. "This seems to me not a great thing. But the
reason you suppose is not my reason."

"If the reason isn't a secret, I wish you'd mention it; Mrs. Caruthers
will be asking me in private, by and by; and I do not like her to ask
me questions I cannot answer."

"My reason is,--I think it does more harm than good."

"Wine?"

"Wine, and its congeners."

"Take a cup of coffee, Mr. Caruthers," said Lois; "and confess it will
do instead of the other thing."

Tom accepted the coffee; I don't think he cou