an hour and a
half away."

"And are you a D. A. R., and Colonial Dames, and Mayflower Society
members, and all that?"

"Dear me! I don't know," laughed Genevieve. "Why?"

"And do you read the _Atlantic Monthly_, and eat beans Saturday night,
and fishballs Sunday morning?" still hurried on Quentina. "You don't any
of you wear glasses, and I don't think you speak very low."

"Anything else?" asked Tilly politely.

"Oh, yes, lots of things," answered Quentina, "but I've forgotten most
of them."

"Quentina, what _are_ you talking about?" laughed Genevieve.

Quentina smiled oddly, then she sighed.

"It wasn't true, of course. I knew it couldn't be."

"What wasn't true?"

"Something I found in one of father's church papers about Rules for
Living in New England. I cut it out. Wait a minute--it's here,
somewhere!" And, to the girls' amazement, she dived into a pocket at the
side of her dress, pulling out several clippings which seemed, mostly,
to be verse. One was prose, and it was on this she pounced. "Here it is.
Listen." And she read:

"'Rules for Living in New England. You must be descended from the
Puritans, and should belong to the Mayflower Society, or be a D. A. R.,
a Colonial Dame, or an S. A. R. You must graduate from Harvard, or
Radcliffe, and must disdain all other colleges. You must quote Emerson,
read the _Atlantic Monthly_, and swear by the _Transcript_. You must
wear glasses, speak in a low voice, eat beans on Saturday night, and
fishballs on Sunday morning. Always you must carry with you a green bag,
and you should be a professional man, or woman, preferably of the
literary variety. You should live not farther away from Boston than two
hours' ride, and of course you will be devoted to tombstones, relics,
and antiques. You may tolerate Europe, but you must ignore the West. You
must be slow of speech, dignified of conduct, and serene of temper. You
must never be surprised, nor display undue emotion. Above all, you must
be _cultured_.'

"Now you see you haven't done all those things," she declared, as she
finished the article.

"I reckon there are a few omissions--specially on my part," laughed
Genevieve.

"But you are happy there?"

"Indeed I am!"

"How I do wish I could go," sighed Quentina. "I should love Boston, I
know. Alice did--though she still liked Texas better."

"Well, I know Boston would love you," chuckled Tilly, unexpectedly.
"Girls, wouldn't she be a picnic in Sunbridge? She