s."

"She can hardly fail to be satisfied; but it is a simple life. There are
only two servants, Cicero, and Nanny, once a slave, now, as Mrs.
Swanwick says, a servant friend--ah, and a stiff Episcopal. She has
never ceased to wonder why her mistress ever became a Quaker. I am much
of her way of thinking. Are you of a mind to walk and see a little of
the city? Later we will call upon Mr. Wynne." As they rose, he added: "I
did not speak of the wrecks of French nobles cast on these shores--only
a few as yet. You will see them by and by. They are various--but in
general perplexed by inheritance of helplessness. Once for all you are
to understand that my room is always and equally yours. Of course you
use the foils. Yes; well, we shall fence in the garden. And now come;
let us go out."

"I forgot, sir. My mother bade me thank you for the roses. She has as
yet no English, or would herself have thanked you."

"But I myself speak French--of a kind. It will serve to amuse madame;
but never will you hear French at its best until Miss Wynne does talk
it."

IV

As they went northward on Front Street, with the broad Delaware to the
right, for as yet no Water Street narrowed the river frontage, the
German said: "I left out of my portrait gallery one Schmidt, but you
will come to know him in time. He has a talent for intimacy. Come, now;
you have known him five years. What do you think of him?"

More and more strange seemed this gentleman to his young companion. He
glanced aside at the tall, strongly built man, with the merry blue eyes,
and, a little embarrassed and somewhat amused, replied with habitual
caution, "I hardly know as yet, but I think I shall like him."

"I like the answer. You will like him, but we may leave him and time to
beget opinion. How dignified these Georgian fronts are, and the stoops!
Once folks sat on them at evening, and gossiped of the miseries of war.
Now there are changed ways and more luxury and a new day--less
simpleness; but not among the good people we have left. No. They are of
the best, and aristocrats, too, though you may not suspect it. The habit
of hospitality in a new land remains. A lady with small means loses no
social place because, like our hostess, she receives guests who pay.
Here will come rich kinsfolk and friends, visitors on even
terms--Whartons, Morrises, Cadwaladers, Logans,--the old, proud Welsh,
grandsons of Welsh, with at times Quaker people and the men in office,