The Honorable Miss | Page 8

why they should not. Therefore
the Rector's dreams came apparently to nothing.

CHAPTER III
.

A GENTLEMAN, MADAM.
Only apparently. Every one knows how small the little rift within the
lute is. So are most beginnings.
Mrs. Bertram felt, that in her way, she had effected quite a victory. She
stepped into her brougham to return to Rosendale Manor with a
pleasing sense of triumph.
"I am thankful to say that ordeal is over," she remarked. "And I think,"
she continued, with a smile, "that when the Northbury people see my
cards, awaiting them on their humble hall-tables, they will have learnt
their lesson."
Neither of the girls made any response to this speech. Mabel was
leaning back in the carriage looking bored and cross, but Catherine's
expression was unusually bright.
"Mother," she exclaimed suddenly, "I met such a nice girl at the
bazaar."
"You made an acquaintance at the bazaar, my dear Catherine,"
answered Mrs. Bertram with alacrity. "You made an acquaintance? The
acquaintance of a girl? Who?"
"Her name is Beatrice Meadowsweet. She is a dear, delightful, fresh
girl, and exactly my own age."
Catherine's dark face was all aglow. Her handsome brown eyes shone
with interest and pleasure.
"Catherine, how often, how very often have I told you that expressions
of rapture such as you have just given way to are underbred."
"Why are they underbred, mother?" Catherine's tone was aggressive,
and Mabel again kicked her sister's foot.
The kick was returned with vigor, and Catherine said in an earnest
though deliberate voice:
"Why are expressions of rapture underbred? Can enthusiasm, that fire
of the gods, be vulgar?"
"Kate, you are cavilling. Expressions of rapture generally show a lack
of breeding because as a rule they are exaggerated, therefore untrue. In
this case they are manifestly untrue, for how is it possible for you to tell
that the girl you have just been speaking to is dear, delightful, and
fresh?"
"Her face is fresh, her manners are fresh, her expression is delightful.
There is no use, mother, you can't crush me. I am in love with Beatrice

Meadowsweet."
Mrs. Bertram's brow became clouded. It was one of the bitter defeats
which she had ever and anon to acknowledge to herself that, in the
midst of her otherwise victorious career, she could never get the better
of her eldest daughter Catherine.
"Who introduced you to this girl?" she asked, after a pause.
"The Rector. He saw me standing by one of the stalls, looking what I
felt--awfully bored. He came up in his kind way and took my hand, and
said: 'My dear, you don't know any one, I am afraid. You would like to
make some acquaintances, would you not?' I replied: 'I am most
anxious to know some of the nice people all around me.'"
"My dear Catherine! The nice people! And when you knew my express
wishes!"
"Yes, mother, but they weren't mine. And I had to be truthful, at any
cost. Beatrice was standing not far off, and when I said this my eye met
hers, and we both smiled. Then the rector introduced me to her, and we
mutually voted the bazaar close and hot, and went out to watch the
tennis players in the garden. We had a jolly time. I have not laughed so
much since I came to this slow, poky corner of the world."
"And what were you doing, Mabel?" questioned her mother. "Did you,
too, pick up an undesirable acquaintance and march away into the
gardens with her? Was your new friend also fresh, delightful and dear?"
"I wish she had been, mother," answered Mabel, her tone still very
petulant. "But I hadn't Kate's luck. I was introduced to no one, although
lots of people stared at me, and whispered about me as I passed."
"And you saw this paragon of Catherine's?"
"Yes, I saw her."
"What did you think of her, May? I like to get your opinion, my love.
You have a good deal of penetration. Tell me frankly what you thought
of this low-born miss, whom Catherine degraded herself by talking to."
Mabel looked at her sister. Catherine's eyes flashed. Mabel replied
demurely:
"I thought Miss Meadowsweet quiet-looking and graceful."
Catherine took Mabel's hand unnoticed by their mother and squeezed it,
and Mrs. Bertram, who was not wholly devoid of tact, thought it wisest
to let the conversation drop.
The next day the Rector called, and Mrs. Bertram asked him, in an

incidental way what kind of people the Meadowsweets were.
"Excellent people," he replied, rubbing his hands softly together.
"Excellent, worthy, honorable. I have few parishioners whom I think
more highly of than Beatrice and her mother."
Mrs. Bertram's brow began to clear.
"A mother and daughter," she remarked. "Only a mother and a daughter,
Mr.