ted to disrespect of her
elders."

"And you, Mrs. Boutts?" asked the President.

"As a woman of the world I have not that implicit faith in human nature
that some people are still so happy as to cherish. My daughter--who
refused to come to-day, knowing the subject to be discussed--is
indignant at these reports; but of course she is a mere child, and very
much fascinated by Miss Otis. I do not by any means approve of the
drastic methods proposed by Mrs. Haight--I should hope that California
had taken _some_ of the old puritanical spirit out of us--but I do think
that Miss Otis should be given to understand that she cannot import
European fashions into Rosewater, and that she must have a chaperon. Let
her feel that she has acted unwisely, at the very least, by not inviting
her to any of the young people's gatherings in the future."

"As there are no more except for card-playing, and as she has recently
been the only hostess at an evening party the town has boasted for two
years, your virtuous wrath bids fair to blow past her unheeded. Mrs.
Plews, will you address us?"

Mrs. Plews was the wife of the pastor of the aristocratic Episcopalian
church, a pretty fluffy young woman, who visited the sick and made
excellent ice-cream for the church festivals. "Oh, I don't know!" she
exclaimed, deprecatingly. "It is all too dreadful! I no longer regret
that Miss Otis does not come to church. I had thought of remonstrating
with her once more--but when I recalled the last time! Now, it is indeed
well that she has not been associating with our young folks. I am sorry
this was not known before her party; I must really talk to Mr. Plews
before I can say anything further."

"Mrs. Toffitt, I am sure that you have something to say--and an opinion
of your own."

Mrs. Toffitt, a buxom highly colored woman of forty, who, since her
husband's death, the year before, had continued his business--a general
feed store--with striking success, and who was one of the most popular
women in Rosewater, with her abounding good-nature, her high spirits,
and her utter independence of speech, sprang to her feet.

"I have this to say," she cried. "For a lot of puritanical, prying,
spying, detestable old hens, we take the cake. Isabel Otis minds her own
business. Why, in heaven's name, can't we mind ours? Does she owe
anybody anything? Has she taken anybody's beau away? Anybody's husband?
Does she walk the streets doing nothing but show herself, or go b