"Ohyes，Ido，"saidthepainter。"Weneverknowwhenwemaybeuponthepointofrevelation。Iwouldn’tmissanychance。"
　　WhetherWhitwellfeltanironicslantinthewordsornot，hepausedamomentbeforehesaid："Wanttostartherup，Jackson？"
　　Jacksonbroughttothefloortheforefeetofhischair，whichhehadtiltedfromitinleaningback，andwithoutotheranswerputhishandontheplanchette。Itbegantoflyoverthelargesheetofpaperspreaduponthetable，incurvesandanglesandeccentrics。
　　"Feelspoottylivelyto—night，"saidWhitwell，withaglanceatWestover。
　　ThelittleCanuck，asifhehadnownofurtherconcerninthematter，satdowninacornerandsmokedsilently。Whitwellasked，afteramoment’simpatience：
　　"Can’tyougitherdowntobusiness，Jackson？"
　　Jacksongasped："She’llcomedownwhenshewantsto。"
　　Thelittleinstrumentseemed，infact，tryingtocontrolitself。Itsmovementsbecamelesswildandlarge；thezigzagsbegantoshapethemselvesintosomethinglikecharacters。Jackson’swastedfacegavenotokenofinterest；Whitwelllaidhalfhisgauntlengthacrossthetableintheendeavortomakeoutsomemeaninginthem；theCanuck，withhishandscrossedonhisstomach，smokedon，withthesamegleaminhispipeandeye。
　　Theplanchettesuddenlystoodmotionless。
　　"Shedone？"murmuredWhitwell。
　　"Iguesssheis，foraspell，anyway，"saidJackson，wearily。
　　"Let’strytomakeoutwhatshesays。"WhitwelldrewthesheetstowardhimselfandWestover，whosatnexthim。"You’vegottolookfortheletterseverywhere。Sometimesshe’llgiveyoufairandsquarewritin’，andthenagainshe’llslatthelettersdowneverywhichway，andyou’vegottohunt’emoutforyourself。Here’saBI’vegot。Thatbeginsalongprettyearlyinthealphabet。Let’sseewhatwecanfindnext。"
　　WestoverfanciedhecouldmakeoutanFandaT。
　　WhitwellexultedinanunmistakableKandN；andhemadesureofanI，andanE。ThepainterwasnotsosureofanS。"Well，callitanS，"
　　saidWhitwell。"AndIguessI’vegotanOhere，andanH。Hello！
　　Here’sanAaslargeaslife。Poottymuchofamixture。"
　　"Yes；Idon’tseethatwe’remuchbetteroffthanwewerebefore，"saidWestover。
　　"Well，Idon’tknowaboutthat，"saidWhitwell。
　　"Write’emdowninarowandseeifwecan’tpickoutsomesense。I’vehadworsefindsthanthis；novowelsatallsometimes；buthere’sthree。"
　　Hewrotethelettersdown，whileJacksonleanedbackagainstthewall，inpatientquiet。
　　"Well，sir，"saidWhitwell，pushingthepaper，wherehehadwrittenthelettersinaline，toWestover，"makeanythingoutof’em？"
　　Westoverstruggledwiththemamoment。"Icanmakeoutoneword—shaft。"
　　"Anythingelse？"demandedWhitwell，withaglanceoftriumphatJackson。
　　Westoverstudiedtheremainingletters。"Yes，Igetoneotherword—
　　broken。"
　　"JustwhatIdone！ButIwantedyoutospeakfirst。It’sBrokenShaft。
　　Jackson，shecaughtrightontowhatwewastalkin’about。Thislife，"heturnedtoWestover，insolemnexegesis，"isabrokenshaftwhendeathcomes。Itrestsupontheearth，butyougottolookforthetopofitintheskies。That’sthewayIlookatit。Whatdoyouthink，Jackson？
　　Jombateeste？"
　　Ithinkanybodycan’tseethat。Bettergoandgetsomeheye—glass。"
　　Westoverremainedinashamefulminority。Hesaid，meekly："Itsuggestsabeautifulhope。"
　　Jacksonbroughthischair—legsdownagain，andputhishandontheplanchette。
　　"Feelthattinglin’？"asked。Whitwell，andJacksonmadeyeswithsilentlips。"Afterhe’sbeenworkin’theplantchetteforaspell，andthenleavesoff，andshewantstosaysomethingmore，"WhitwellexplainedtoWestover，"heseemstofeelakindoftinglin’inhisarm，asifitwasasleep，andthenhe’sgottotackleheragain。Writin’steadyenoughnow，Jackson！"hecried，joyously。"Let’ssee。"Heleanedoverandread，"ThomasJefferson——"Theplanchettestopped，"My，Ididn’tgotodothat，"saidWhitwell，apologetically。"YoumuchacquaintedwithJefferson’swritin’s？"heaskedofWestover。
　　Thepainterhadtoownhisignoranceofallexceptthedictionthatthegovernmentisbestwhichgovernsleast；buthewasnotinapositiontodenythatJeffersonhadeversaidanythingaboutabrokenshaft。
　　"Itmayhavecometohimontheotherside，"saidWhitwell。
　　"Perhaps，"Westoverassented。
　　Theplanchettebegantostiritselfagain。"She’sgoin’ahead！"criedWhitwell。Heleanedoverthetablesoastogeteveryletterasitwasformed。"D——Yes！Death。DeathistheBrokenShaft。Goon！"Afteramomentoffalteringtheplanchetteformedanotherletter。ItwasaU，anditwasfollowedbyanR，andsoon，tillDurginhadbeenspelled。
　　"Thunder！"criedWhitwell。"Ifanything’shappenedtoJeff！"
　　Jacksonliftedhishandfromtheplanchette。
　　"Oh，goon，Jackson！"Whitwellentreated。"Don’tleaveitso！"
　　"Ican’tseemtogoon，"Jacksonwhispered，andWestovercouldnotresistthefearthatsuddenlyroseamongthem。Buthemadethefirststruggleagainstit。"Thisisnonsense。Or，ifthere’sanysenseinit，itmeansthatJeff’sshiphasbrokenhershaftandputback。"
　　Whitwellgavealoudlaughofrelief。"That’sso！You’vehitit，Mr。
　　Westover。"
　　Jacksonsaid，quietly："Hedidn’tmeantostarthometilltomorrow。Andhowcouldhesendanymessageunlesshewas——"
　　"Easily！"criedWestover。"It’ssimplyaninstanceofmentalimpression—
　　oftelepathy，astheycallit。"
　　"That’sso！"shoutedWhitwell，witheagerandinstantconviction。
　　WestovercouldseethatJacksonstilldoubted。"Ifyoubelievethatadisembodiedspiritcancommunicatewithyou，whynotanembodiedspirit？
　　Ifanythinghashappenedtoyourbrother’sship，hismindwouldbestronglyonyouathome，andwhycouldn’titconveyitsthoughttoyou？"
　　"Becauseheha’n’tstartedyet，"saidJackson。
　　Westoverwantedtolaugh；buttheyallheardvoiceswithout，whichseemedtobecomingnearer，andhelistenedwiththerest。HemadeoutFrankWhitwell’svoice，andhissister’s；andthenanothervoice，louderandgayer，roseboisterouslyabovethem。Whitwellflungthedooropenandplungedoutintothenight。Hecameback，haulingJeffDurgininbytheshoulder。
　　"Here，now，"beshoutedtoJackson，"youjustletthisfellerandplantchettefightitouttogether！"
　　"What’sthematterwithplantchette？"saidJeff，beforehesaidtohisbrother，"Hello，Jackson！"andtotheCanuck，"Hello，Jombateeste！"
　　Heshookhandsconventionallywiththemboth，andthenwiththepainter，whomhegreetedwithgreaterinterest。"Gladtoseeyouhere，Mr。
　　Westover。DidItakeyoubysurprise？"heaskedofthecompanyatlarge。
　　"No，sir，"saidWhitwell。"Didn’tsurpriseusany，ifyouareafortnightaheadoftime，"headded，withawinkattheothers。
　　"Well，ItookanotionIwouldn’twaitforthecattle—ship，andIstartedbackonaFrenchboat。ThoughtI’dtryit。Theylivewell。ButIhopedIshouldastonishyoualittle，too。Imightaswellwaited。"
　　Whitwelllaughed。"Weheardfromyou——plantchettekeptrightroundafteryou。"
　　"Thatso？"askedJeff，carelessly。
　　"Fact。Haveagoodvoyage？"Whitwellhadtheairofputtingacasualquestion。
　　"First—rate，"saidJeff。"Plantchettesaynot？"
　　"No。Onlyaboutthebrokenshaft。"
　　"Brokenshaft？Wedidn’thaveanybrokenshaft。Plantchette’sgotmixedalittle。Gotthewrongship。"
　　Afteramomentofchop—fallenness，Whitwellsaid：
　　"Thensomebody’sbeenmakin’freewithyourname。Curioushowthemdevilscutupoftentimes。"
　　Heexplained，andJefflaugheduproariouslywhenheunderstoodthewholecase。"Plantchette’sbeenhavin’funwithyou。"
　　Whitwellgavehimselftimeforreflection。"No，sir，Idon’tlookatitthatway。Iguessthewiresgotcrossedsomeway。Ifthere’ssuchathingasthespiritso’thelivin’influencin’plantchette，accordin’toMr。Westover’ssay，here，Idon’tseewhyitwa’n’t。Jeff’sbeingsonearthatgotcontrolofherandmadehersignhisnametosomebodyelse’swords。Itshowsthere’ssomethinginit。"
　　"Well，I’mgladtocomebackalive，anyway，"saidJeff，withajovialitynewtoWestover。"Itellyou，therea’n’tmanyplacesfinerthanoldLion’sHead，afterall。Don’tyouthinkso，Mr。Westover？Iwanttogetthedaylightonit，butitdoeswellbymoonlight，even。"Helookedroundatthetallgirl，whohadbeenlingeringtohearthetalkofplanchette；atthebackwardtilthegavehishead，togetherinrange，shefrownedasifshefelthiswordsabetrayal，andslippedoutoftheroom；theboyhadalreadygone，andwasmakinghimselfheardinthelowroomoverhead。
　　"There’salotoffolksherethissummer，mothersays，"heappealedfromthecheckhehadgottoJackson。"Everyroomtakenforthewholemonth，shesays。"
　　"We’vebeenprettyfullallJuly，too，"saidJackson，blankly。
　　"Well，it’sagreatbusiness；andI’vepickedupalotofhintsoverthere。We’renotsosmartaswethinkweare。TheSwisscanteachusathingortwo。Theyknowhowtokeepahotel。"
　　"GotoSwitzerland？"askedWhitwell。
　　"Islippedoverintotheedgeofit。"
　　"Iwanttoknow！Well，nowthemAlps，now——theysomuchbigger’ntheWhiteHills，afterall？"
　　"Well，Idon’tknowaboutallof’em，"saidJeff。"Theremaybesomethatwouldcomparewithourhills，butIshouldsaythatyoucouldtakeMountWashingtonupandsetitinthelapofalmostanyoneoftheAlpsI
　　saw，anditwouldlooklikeababyonitsmother’sknee。"
　　"Iwanttoknow！"saidWhitwellagain。Histoneexpresseddisappointment，butimpartiality；hewoulddojusticetoforeignsuperiorityifhemust。"Andabouttheocean。Whataboutwavesrunnin？
　　mountainshigh？"
　　"Well，wedidn’thaveitveryrough。ButIdon’tbelieveIsawanywavesmuchhigherthanLion’sHead。"JefflaughedtofindWhitwelltakinghimseriously。"Won’tthatsatisfyyou？"
　　"Oh，itsatisfiesme。Truthalwaysdoes。But，now，aboutLondon。Youdidn’tseemtosaysomuchaboutLondoninyourletters，now。Isitsobigastheyleton？Big——thatis，tothenakedeye，asyoumaysay？"
　　"Therea’n’tanyoneplacewhereyoucangetacompletebird’s—eyeviewofit，"saidJeff，"andtwo—thirdsofitwouldbehidinsmoke，anyway。
　　You’vegottothinkofaplacethatwouldtakeinthewholepopulationofNewEngland，outsideofMassachusetts，andnotfeelasifithadmorethanacomfortablemeal。"
　　Whitwelllaughedforjoyintheboldfigure。
　　"I’lltellyou。Whenyou’velandedandcrossedupfromLiverpool，andstruckLondon，youfeelasifyou’dgonetoseaagain。It’sanocean——
　　awholeAtlanticofhouses。"
　　"That’sright！"crowedWhitwell。"That’sthewayIthoughtitwas。
　　Growin’any？"
　　Jeffhesitated。"Itgrowsinthenight。You’veheardaboutChicagogrowing？"
　　"Yes。"
　　"Well，LondongrowsawholeChicagoeverynight。"
　　"Good！"saidWhitwell。"Thatsuitsme。AndaboutParis，now。Parisstrikeyouthesameway？"
　　"Itdon’tneedto，"saidJeff。"That’saplacewhereI’dliketolive。
　　Everybody’sathomethere。It’saman’shouseandhisfrontyard，andI
　　tellyoutheykeepitclean。Parisiswasheddowneverymorning；
　　scrubbedandmoppedandrubbeddry。Youcouldn’tfindanymoredirtthanyoucouldinmother’skitchenaftershe’shungoutherwash。Thatso，Mr。Westover？"
　　WestoverconfirmedingeneralJeff’sreportofthecleanlinessofParis。
　　"Andbeautiful！Youdon’tknowwhatagood—lookingtownistillyoustrikeParis。Andthey’reproudofit，too。Everymanactsasifheownedit。They’vehadthestatueofAlsaceinthatPlacedelaConcordeofyours，Mr。Whitwell，wheretheyhadtheguillotinealldrapedinblackeversincethewarwithGermany；andtheymeantohaveherback，someday。"
　　"Greatcountry，Jombateeste！"WhitwellshoutedtotheCanuck。
　　Thelittlemanrousedhimselffromthemuseinwhichhewaslisteningandsmoking。"Me，I’mFrantsh，"hesaid。
　　"Yes，that’swhatJeffwassayin’，"saidWhitwell。"ImeantFrance。"
　　"Oh，"answeredJombateeste，impatiently，"IthoughtyoumeantheHunitedState。"
　　"Well，notthistime，"saidWhitwell，amidthegenerallaughter。
　　"GoodforJombateeste，"saidJeff。"StandupforCanadaeverytime，John。It’sthelivestcountry，intheworldthreemonthsoftheyear，andtheicekeepsitperfectlysweettheothernine。"
　　Whitwellcouldnotbrookadiversionfromthehighandseriousinquirytheyhadenteredupon。"Itmusthavemadethiscountrylookprettyslimwhenyougotback。How’dNewYorklook，afterParis？"
　　"Likeapigpen，"saidJeff。Helefthischairandwalkedroundthetabletowardadooropeningintotheadjoiningroom。ForthefirsttimeWestovernoticedafigureinwhiteseatedthere，andapparentlyraptinthetalkwhichhadbeengoingon。AttheapproachofJeff，andbeforehecouldhavemadehimselfseenatthedoorway，atremorseemedtopassoverthefigure；itflutteredtoitsfeet，andthenitvanishedintothefartherdarkoftheroom。WhenJeffdisappearedwithin，therewasasoundofrustlingskirtsandskurryingfeetandthecrashofaclosingdoor，andthenthefreeriseoflaughingvoiceswithout。Afteradiscreetinterval，Westoversaid："Mr。Whitwell，Imustsaygood—night。
　　I’vegotanotherday’sworkbeforeme。It’sbeenamostinterestingevening。"
　　"Youmusttryitagain，"saidWhitwell，hospitably。"Weha’n’tgottothebottomofthatbrokenshaftyet。You’llsee’tplantchette’llhavesomethingmoretosayaboutit：Heigh，Jackson？"HerosetoreceiveWestover’sgoodnight；theothersnoddedtohim。
　　Asthepainterclimbedthehilltothehotelhesawtwofiguresontheroadbelow；theoneinwhitedraperylookedseveredbyadarklineslantingacrossitatthewaist。Inthecountry，heknew，suchanappearancemightmarktheearlieststagesoflove—making，ormereyouthfultenderness，inwhichtherewasnothingmoreimpliedorexpected。
　　Butwhateverthefactwas，Westoverfeltavaguedistasteforit，which，asitrelateditselftoamoreseriouspossibility，deepenedtosomethinglikepain。Itwasprobablethatitshouldcometothisbetweenthosetwo，butWestoverrebelledagainsttheeventwithasenseofitsunfitnessforwhichhecouldnotgivehimselfanyvalidreason；andintheendheaccusedhimselfofbeingafool。
　　Twoladiessatontheverandaofthehotelandwatchedacloud—wreathtryingtoliftitselffromthesummitofLion’sHead。Intheeffortitthinnedawaytotransparencyinplaces；inothers，ittoreitsfrailtextureasunderandletpartsofthemountainshowthrough；thenthefragmentsknittedthemselveslooselytogether，andthevaporlayagainindreamyquiescence。
　　Theladieswereolderandyounger，andapparentlymotheranddaughter。
　　Themotherhadkeptheryouthinfaceandfiguresoadmirablythatinanotherlightshewouldhavelookedscarcelytheelder。Itwasthecandorofthemorningwhichconfessedthefineverticallinesrunningupanddowntoherlips，onlyashadepalerthanthegirl’s，andthatshowedherhairatriflethinnerinitscopperybrown，herblueeyesalittledimmer。Theywerebothverygraceful，andtheyhadsoft，caressingvoices；theynowbegantotalkverypolitelytoeachother，asiftheywerestrangers，orasifstrangerswereby。Theytalkedofthelandscape，andofthestrangecloudeffectbeforethem。TheysaidthattheysupposedtheyshouldseetheLion’sHeadwhenthecloudlifted，andtheywerebothsuretheyhadneverbeenquitesonearacloudbefore。
　　TheyagreedthatthiswasbecauseinSwitzerlandthemountainsweresomuchhigherandfartheroff。Thenthedaughtersaid，withoutchangingthedirectionofhereyesorthetoneofhervoice，"Thegentlemanwhocameoverfromthestationwithuslastnight，"andthemotherwasawareofJeffDurginadvancingtowardthecorneroftheverandawheretheysat。
　　"Ihopeyouhavegotrested，"hesaid，withthejovialbluntnesswhichwascharacteristicofhimwithwomen。
　　"Oh，yesindeed，"saidtheelderlady。Jeffhadspokentoher，buthadlookedchieflyattheyounger。"Isleptbeautifully。Soquiethere，andwiththisdeliciousair！Haveyoujusttastedit？"
　　"No；I’vebeenupeversincedaylight，drivinground，"saidJeff。"I’mgladyouliketheair，"hesaid，afteracertainhesitation。"WealwayswanttohavepeopledothatatLion’sHead。There’snoairlikeit，thoughperhapsIshouldn’tsayso。"
　　"Shouldn’t？"theladyrepeated。
　　"Yes；weowntheairhere——thispartofit。"Jeffsmiledeasilydownatthelady’spuzzledface。
　　"Oh！Thenyouare——areyouasonofthehouse？"
　　"Sonofthehotel，yes，"saidJeff，withincreasingease。Theladycontinuedherquestioninalook，andhewenton："I’vebeenscouringthecountryforbutterandeggsthismorning。WeshallgetalloursuppliesfromBostonnextyear，Ihope，butwedependontheneighborsalittleyet。"
　　"Howveryinteresting！"saidthelady。"Youmusthaveagreatmanyqueeradventures，"shesuggestedinaprovisionaltone。
　　"Well，nothing’squeertomeinthehillcountry。Butyouseesomecharactershere。"HenoddedoverhisshouldertowhereWhitwellstoodbytheflag—staff，waitingthemorningimpulseoftheladies。"There’soneofthegreatestofthemnow。"
　　TheladyputupalorgnetteandinspectedWhitwell。"Whatarethosestrangethingshehasgotinhishatband？"
　　"Theflowersandthefungioftheseason，"saidJeff。"Hetakespartiesoftheladieswalking，andthatcollectioniswhathecallshisalmanac。"
　　"Really？"criedthegirl。"That’scharming！"
　　"Delightful！"saidthemother，movedbythesameimpulse，apparently。
　　"Yes，"saidJeff。"Yououghttohearhimtalk。I’llintroducehimtoyouafterbreakfast，ifyoulike。"
　　"Oh，weshouldonlybetoohappy，"saidthemother，andherdaughter，fromherinflection，knewthatshewouldbewillingtodeferherhappiness。
　　ButJeffdidnot。"Mr。Whitwell！"hecalledout，andWhitwellcameacrossthegrasstotheedgeoftheveranda。"IwanttointroduceyoutoMrs。Vostrand——andMissVostrand。"
　　Whitwelltooktheirslimhandssuccessivelyintohisbroad，flatpalm，andmadeMrs。Vostrandrepeathernametohim。"StrangersatLion’sHead，Ipresume？"Mrs。Vostrandownedasmuch；andheadded："Well，Iguessyouwon’tfindamuchsightlierplaceanywhere；though，accordin’
　　toJeff’ssay，here，they’vegotbiggermountainsontheotherside。
　　EverbeeninEurope？"
　　"Why，yes，"saidMrs。Vostrand，withalittlemouthofdeprecation。
　　"Infact，we’vejustcomehome。We’vebeenlivingthere。"
　　"Thatso？"returnedWhitwell，inhumoroustoleration。"Gladtogetback，Ipresume？"
　　"Ohyes——yes，"saidMrs。Vostrand，inasortofwillowyconcession，asifthecharacterbeforeherwerenottobecrossedorgainsaid。
　　"Well，it’lldoyougoodhere，"saidWhitwell。"’N’theyounglady，too。Afewtrampsoverthesehills’llmakeyoulooklikeanotherwoman。"Headded，asifhehadperhapsmadehisremarkstoopersonaltothegirl，"Bothofyou。"
　　"Ohyes，"themotherassented，fervently。"Weshallcountuponyourshowingusalltheir—mysteries。"
　　Whitwelllookedpleased。"I’lldomybest—wheneveryou’reready。"
　　Hewenton："Why，Jeff，here，hasjustgotback，too。Jeff，whatwasthenameofthatFrenchboatyousaidyoucrossedon？IwanttoseeifI
　　can’tmakeoutwhatplantchettemeantbythatbrokenshaft。Shemusthavemeantsomething，andifIcouldfindoutthenameoftheship——
　　Telltheladiesaboutit？"Jefflaughed，withashakeofthehead，andWhitwellcontinued，"Why，itwaslikethis，"andhepossessedtheladiesofafactwhichtheyprofessedtofindextremelyinteresting。AttheendoftheirpoliteexpressionsheaskedJeffagain："Whatdidyousaythenamewas？"
　　"Aquitaine，"saidJeff，briefly。
　　"Why，wecameontheAquitaine！"saidMrs。Vostrand，withasmileforJeff。"Buthowdidwehappennottoseeoneanother？"
　　"Oh，Icamesecond—cabin，"saidJeff。"Iworkedmywayoveronacattle—
　　shiptoLondon，and，whenIdecidednottoworkmywayback，IfoundI
　　hadn’tenoughmoneyforafirst—cabinpassage。IwasinahurrytogetbackintimetogetsettledatHarvard，andsoIcamesecond—cabin。Itwasn’tbad。Iusedtoseeyouacrosstherail。"
　　"Well！"saidWhitwell。
　　"Howvery——amusing！"saidMrs。Vostrand。"Whatasmallworlditis！"
　　Withthesewordsshefellintoavagary；herdaughterrecalledherfromitwithaslightmovement。"Breakfast？Howimpatientyouare，Genevieve！Well！"ShesmiledthesweetestpartingtoWhitwell，andsufferedherselftobeledawaybyJeff。
　　"Andyou’reatHarvard？I’msointerested！Myownboywillbegoingtheresoon。"
　　"Well，there’snoplacelikeHarvard，"saidJeff。"I’minmySophomoreyearnow。"
　　"Oh，aSophomore！Fancy！"criedMrs。Vostrand，asifnothingcouldgivehermorepleasure。"MysonisgoingtoprepareatSt。Mark’s。Didyoupreparethere？"
　　"No，IpreparedatLovewellAcademy，overhere。"Jeffnoddedinasoutherlydirection。
　　"Oh，indeed！"saidMrs。Vostrand，asifsheknewwhereLovewellwas，andinstantlyrecognizedthenameoftheancientschool。
　　Theyhadreachedthediningroom，andJeffpushedthescreen—dooropenwithonehand，andfollowedtheladiesin。Hehadtheeffectofwelcomingthemlikeinvitedguests；heplacedtheladieshimselfatawindow，wherehesaidMrs。Vostrandwouldbeoutofthedraughts，andtheycouldhaveagoodviewofLion’sHead。
　　Heleanedoverbetweenthem，whentheywereseated，togetsightofthemountain，and，"There！"hesaid。"Thatcloud’sgoneatlast。"Then，asifitwouldbemodesterintheproprietoroftheviewtoleavethemtotheirflatteringrapturesinit，hemovedawayandstoodtalkingamomentwithCynthiaWhitwellnearthedooroftheserving—room。Hetalkedgayly，withmanytossesoftheheadandturnsabout，whileshelistenedwithavaguesmile，motionlessly。
　　"She’sverypretty，"saidMissVostrandtohermother。
　　"Yes。TheNewEnglandtype，"murmuredthemother。
　　"Theyallhavethesamelook，agooddeal，"saidthegirl，glancingovertheroomwherethewaitressesstoodrangedagainstthewallwiththeirhandsfoldedattheirwaists。"Theyhavebetterfacesthanfigures，butsheisbeautifuleveryway。Doyousupposetheyareallschoolteachers？
　　Theylookintellectual。Orisittheirglasses？"
　　"Idon’tknow，"saidthemother。"Theyusedtobe；butthingschangeheresorapidlyitmayallbedifferent。Doyoulikeit？"
　　"Ithinkit’scharminghere，"saidtheyoungerlady，evasively。
　　"Everythingissoexquisitelyclean。Andthefoodisverygood。Isthiscorn—bread——thatyou’vetoldmeaboutsomuch？"
　　"Yes，thisiscorn—bread。Youwillhavetogetaccustomedtoit。"
　　"Perhapsitwon’ttakelong。Icouldfancythatgirlknowingabouteverything。Don’tyoulikeherlooks？"
　　"Oh，verymuch。"Mrs。VostrandturnedforanotherglanceatCynthia。
　　"Whatsay？"Theirsmilingwaitresscameforwardfromthewallwhereshewasleaning，asifshethoughttheyhadspokentoher。
　　"Oh，wewerespeaking——theyoungladytowhomMr。Durginwastalking——sheis——"
　　"She’sthehousekeeper——MissWhitwell。"
　　"Oh，indeed！Sheseemssoyoung——"
　　"Iguesssheknowswhattodo—o—o，"thewaitresschanted。"Wethinkshe’saboutri—i—ght。"Shesmiledtolerantlyuponthemisgivingofthestranger，ifitwasthat，andthenretreatedwhenthemotheranddaughterbegantalkingtogetheragain。
　　Theyhadpraisedthemountainwiththecloudoff，toJeff，verypolitely，andnowthemothersaid，alittlemoreintimately，butstillwiththedeferenceofasocietyacquaintance："Heseemsverygentlemanly，andIamsureheisverykind。Idon’tquiteknowwhattodoaboutit，doyou？"
　　"No，Idon’t。It’sallstrangetome，youknow。"
　　"Yes，Isupposeitmustbe。Butyouwillgetusedtoitifweremaininthecountry。Doyouthinkyouwilldislikeit？"
　　"Ohno！It’sverydifferent。"
　　"Yes，it’sdifferent。Heisveryhandsome，inacertainway。"Thedaughtersaidnothing，andthemotheradded："Iwonderifhewastryingtoconcealthathehadcomesecond—cabin，andwasnotgoingtoletusknowthathecrossedwithus？"
　　"Doyouthinkhewasboundtodoso？"
　　"No。Butitwasveryodd，hisnotmentioningit。Andhisgoingoutonacattle—steamer？"themotherobserved。
　　"Oh，butthat’sverychic，I’veheard，"thedaughterreplied。"I’veheardthattheyoungmenlikeitandthinkitagreatchance。Theyhavegreatfun。Itisn’tatalllikesecond—cabin。"
　　"Youyoungpeoplehaveyourownworld，"themotheranswered，caressingly。