no accomplishments. She came out into the garden the other day and entertained me for half-an-hour with light and elegant conversation."
Mrs. Bartlett gave that ceiling-ward glance that is symbolic of resignation.
"Her irrepressible friendliness is beyond everything," she declared. "When anyone calls I really come down in a cold terror, always imagining that I may find her sitting in the drawing-room with them. What did she say?"
"She asked me what time I thought it was, and when I was taking out my watch she said quickly, 'Oh no; I know, but I want you to guess.'"
"You only laugh, Tom," exclaimed his wife indignantly, which was true enough, "but it really is quite too frightful."
"I guessed," continued Philip, displaying an obvious sympathy towards Tom's standpoint, "and was some half-hour wrong. 'Yes,' said Euphrosyne brightly, 'I thought that it was about that time too. Isn't it coming dark soon?'"
"She saunters down the garden when Tom is doing anything, and asks him the names of things," said Phœbe dolefully. "He won't tell her to go away, and I—I"
"You won't either," retorted Tom. "You are afraid of hurting her feelings."
"I confess that I don't quite know how to bring her to see matters properly sometimes. You see, Flip, she is not an ordinary trained girl, and I feel that I ought to make allowances and not expect too much at first. She's an Unemployed, and a Problem, and a Submerged Tenth, and so on. But don't let my thoughtless prattle keep you from going to sleep, Flip!"
"Passionately interested," yawned Philip. "Your beautiful, fresh, country air. Do go on."
