reasons. But
those I speak of, the best women of every small town, are constantly
active in civic affairs. Most of the sanitary improvements and the
educational, all schemes for parks and better streets, come from them.
There is no village too small to have its 'Woman's Improvement Club.'
And it is the women that have saved all the historical buildings in the
country from destruction."

"I thought they went in for Browning Societies."

"Doubtless you would scorn really to know anything of American humor.
Perhaps our comic papers have never heard of the Improvement Clubs, or
find nothing in them that is humorous. Not that I would decry the
Browning Clubs, nor any literary clubs, however crude. It is all in the
line of progress. 'Culture' is a tempting morsel for the jokemaker, but
as an alternative for dull domesticity and the vulgar inanities of
gossip it is not to be despised."

"By Jove, you are right," said Hexam, not without warmth.

"Is my fair cousin converting you to something?" asked the host. His
voice had been little heard, and he looked sulky.

"Cousin?"

"Yes, he is my cousin," said Isabel, with the accent of resignation.
Hexam laughed. Gwynne looked as if the grace of humor had been left out
of him. Isabel, innocent and impassive, turned her eyelashes upon her
partner. "I was quite wild to meet my cousin," she went on, in the
toneless voice that contrasted so effectively with her occasional
extravagance of speech; "and now I find him the precise image of my
uncle Hiram, who never spoke to me except to say: 'Little girls should
be seen and not heard,' or 'Run off to bed now, little one.'"

Without repitching her voice she yet infused it with a patronizing
masculinity that once more startled Hexam into laughter, and caused a
silent convulsion in the massive frame of Lady Cecilia Spence.

"She knows that was a bit of vengeance," thought Isabel. "But of course,
manlike, he'll never suspect it." She turned her deep thoughtful gaze
full upon her cousin. His eyes were glittering under their heavy lids.
He replied, suavely:

"I hope you will find us more polite--if less picturesque. I cannot
flatter myself that my likeness to your uncle Hiram extends that far.
'Precise image'--is not that perhaps a bit of national exaggeration?"

"Well, I take that back," said Isabel, sweetly. "But you really might be
his son instead of his second cousin."

"Perhaps that accounts for a good many things," said Lady Cec