He can't understand," said George.

"Is she very--?" asked Dolly, fixing doubtfully grave eyes on my young
cousin.

"Sam's seen her," said he, in an excess of shyness.

Dolly turned to me for an opinion, and I gave one:

"She is just," said I, "as charming as he thinks her."

Dolly leant over to my cousin, and whispered, "Tell me her name." And he
whispered something back to Dolly.

"It's awfully kind of you, Lady Mickleham," he said.

"I am a kind old thing," said Dolly, all over dimples. "I can easily get
to know them."

"Oh, you really are awfully kind, Lady Mickleham."

Dolly smiled upon him, waved her hand to me, and drove off, crying--

"Do try to make Mr. Carter understand!"

We were left along. George wore a meditative smile. Presently he roused
himself to say:

"She's really a very kind woman. She's so sympathetic. She's not like
you. I expect she felt it once herself, you know."

"One can never tell," said I carelessly. "Perhaps she did--once."

George fell to brooding again. I thought I would try an experiment.

"Not altogether bad-looking, either, is she?" I asked, lighting a
cigarette.

George started.

"What? Oh, well, I don't know. I suppose some people might think so."

He paused, and added, with a bashful, knowing smile--

"You can hardly expect me to go into raptures about her, can you, old
man?"

I turned my head away, but he caught me.

"Oh, you needn't smile in that infernally patronizing way," he cried
angrily.

"Upon my word, George," said I, "I don't know that I need."

THE VERY LATEST THING

"It's the very latest thing," said Lady Mickleham, standing by the table
in the smoking room, and holding an album in her hand.

"I wish it had been a little later still," said I, for I felt
embarrassed.

"You promise, on your honor, to be absolutely sincere, you know, and
then you write what you think of me. See what a lot of opinions I've got
already," and she held up the thick album.

"It would be extremely interesting to read them," I observed.

"Oh! but they're quite confidential," said Dolly. "That's part of the
fun."

"I don't appreciate that part," said I.

"Perhaps you will when you've written yours," suggested Lady Mickleham.

"Meanwhile, mayn't I see the Dowager's?"

"Well, I'll show you a little bit of the Dowager's. Look here: Our dear
Dorothea is still perhaps just a thought wanting in seriousness, but the
sense of her position is having a soberin