"Oh, all sorts of womanly accomplishments. Needle-work and piano playing and sketching in water colors."
"She writes a very good note."
"Do you claim that as a womanly accomplishment?"
"Not exclusively. But it is an accomplishment of hers."
Everything seemed to conspire to tickle John's vanity.
"The critics think she has an 'almost masculine power,'" I observed, casually. "Do you see anything of that in her letters?"
"Oh, no! Her letters are extremely lady-like. Don't you think so, Aunt Bessie?"
"I beg your pardon," said Aunt Bessie. "I am afraid I was not listening. I was trying to make out whether that rock was Ben. Butler or the Irish Emigrant."
"It is too good a rock for either," her niece protested. "Isn't it a shame," she continued, turning to me, "to call these splendid rocks names!"
