the hedges and barriers behind which one tries to cultivate the flowers of a finer garden."
"That," I said, "is the really decisive evidence of our freedom from snobbishness."
"It is the decisive evidence," said Cornelia, "of our deficiency in taste."
"You lack patience," I persisted. "It is the new social wisdom of democracy."
"It is the new social idiocy of democracy," she replied; "and let me assure you there is none of it in my house. If I lack patience, I possess some experience. I was taught by my mother to be kind and considerate to servants—my old nurse loved me like a daughter. And I was taught at home and in church to be charitable to poor people and ignorant people and people without advantages and without manners. But I was also brought up to believe that a nice girl had better be dead than form a sentimental relationship with one who was not in her class—not a gentleman."
"Don't you think that is—a rather silly and outworn prejudice?" I ventured.
"I certainly do not," she replied. "I think the salvation of a girl is her pride—legitimate pride in her family, her position, her connections. I have conscientiously striven to train my daughter
