CHAPTER I
WHO IS SHE?

"Tom, who was that girl you were so taken with last night?"

"Wasn't particularly taken last night with anybody."

Which practical falsehood the gentleman escaped from by a mentalreservation, saying to himself that it was not last night that he was"taken."

"I mean the girl you had so much to do with. Come, Tom!"

"I hadn't much to do with her. I had to be civil to somebody. She wasthe easiest."

"Who is she, Tom?"

"Her name is Lothrop."

"O you tedious boy! I know what her name is, for I was introduced toher, and Mrs. Wishart spoke so I could not help but understand her; butI mean something else, and you know I do. Who is she? And where doesshe come from?"

"She is a cousin of Mrs. Wishart; and she comes from the countrysomewhere."

"One can see that."

"How can you?" the brother asked rather fiercely.

"You see it as well as I do," the sister returned coolly. "Her dressshows it."

"I didn't notice anything about her dress."

"You are a man."

"Well, you women dress for the men. If you only knew a thing or two, you would dress differently."

"That will do! You would not take me anywhere, if I dressed like Miss

Lothrop."

"I'll tell you what," said the young man, stopping short in his walk upand down the floor; – "she can afford to do without your advantages!"

"Mamma!" appealed the sister now to a third member of the party, – "doyou hear? Tom has lost his head."

The lady addressed sat busy with newspapers, at a table a littlewithdrawn from the fire; a lady in fresh middle age, and comely to lookat. The daughter, not comely, but sensible-looking, sat in the glow ofthe fireshine, doing nothing. Both were extremely well dressed, if"well" means in the fashion and in rich stuffs, and with no sparing ofmoney or care. The elder woman looked up from her studies now for amoment, with the remark, that she did not care about Tom's head, if hewould keep his heart.

"But that is just precisely what he will not do, mamma. Tom can't keepanything, his heart least of all. And this girl mamma, I tell you he isin danger. Tom, how many times have you been to see her?"

"I don't go to see her; I go to see Mrs. Wishart."

"Oh! – and you see Miss Lothrop by accident! Well, how many times, Tom?

Three – four – five."

"Don't be ridiculous!" the brother struck in. "Of course a fellow goeswhere he can amuse himself and have the best time; and Mrs. Wishartkeeps a pleasant house."

"Especially lately. Well, Tom, take care! it won't do. I warn you."

"What won't do?" – angrily.

"This girl; not for our family. Not for you, Tom. She hasn'tanything, – and she isn't anybody; and it will not do for you to marryin that way. If your fortune was ready made to your hand, or if youwere established in your profession and at the top of it, – why, perhapsyou might be justified in pleasing yourself; but as it is, don't,Tom! Be a good boy, and don't!"

"My dear, he will not," said the elder lady here. "Tom is wiser thanyou give him credit for."

"I don't give any man credit for being wise, mamma, when a pretty faceis in question. And this girl has a pretty face; she is very pretty.But she has no style; she' is as poor as a mouse; she knows nothing ofthe world; and to crown all, Tom, she's one of the religioussort. – Think of that! One of the real religious sort, you know. Thinkhow that would fit."

"What sort are you?" asked her brother.

"Not that sort, Tom, and you aren't either."

"How do you know she is?"

"Very easy," said the girl coolly. "She told me herself."

"She told you!"

"Yes."

"How?"

"O, simply enough. I was confessing that Sunday is such a fearfullylong day to me, and I did not know what to do with it; and she lookedat me as if I were a poor heathen – which I suppose she thought me – andsaid, 'But there is always the Bible!' Fancy! – 'always the Bible.' So Iknew in a moment where to place her."

"I don't think religion hurts a woman," said the young man.

"But you do not want her to have too much of it – " the mother remarked, without looking up from her paper.

"I don't know what you mean by too much, mother. I'd as lief she found

Sunday short as long. By her own showing, Julia has the worst of it."

"Mamma! speak to him," urged the girl.

"No need, my dear, I think. Tom isn't a fool."

"Any man is, when he is in love, mamma."

Tom came and stood by the mantelpiece, confronting them. He was aremarkably handsome young man; tall, well formed, very well dressed, hair and moustaches carefully trimmed, and features of regular thoughmanly beauty, with an expression of genial kindness and courtesy.

"I am not in love," he said, half laughing. "But I will tell you, – Inever saw a nicer girl than Lois Lothrop. And I think all that you sayabout her being poor, and all that, is just – bosh."

The newspapers went down.

"My dear boy, Julia is right. I should be very sorry to see you hurtyour career and injure your chances by choosing a girl who would giveyou no sort of help. And you would regret it yourself, when it was toolate. You would be certain to regret it. You could not help but regretit."

"I am not going to do it. But why should I regret it?"

"You know why, as well as I do. Such a girl would not be a good wifefor you. She would be a millstone round your neck."

Perhaps Mr. Tom thought she would be a pleasant millstone in thosecircumstances; but he only remarked that he believed the lady inquestion would be a good wife for whoever could get her.

"Well, not for you. You can have anybody you want to, Tom; and you mayjust as well have money and family as well as beauty. It is a very badthing for a girl not to have family. That deprives her husband of agreat advantage; and besides, saddles upon him often most undesirableburdens in the shape of brothers and sisters, and nephews perhaps. Whatis this girl's family, do you know?"

"Respectable," said Tom, "or she would not be a cousin of Mrs. Wishart.

And that makes her a cousin of Edward's wife."

"My dear, everybody has cousins; and people are not responsible forthem. She is a poor relation, whom Mrs. Wishart has here for thepurpose of befriending her; she'll marry her off if she can; and youwould do as well as another. Indeed you would do splendidly; but theadvantage would be all on their side; and that is what I do not wishfor you."

Tom was silent. His sister remarked that Mrs. Wishart really was not amatch-maker.

"No more than everybody is; it is no harm; of course she would like tosee this little girl well married. Is she educated? Accomplished?"

"Tom can tell," said the daughter. "I never saw her do anything. Whatcan she do, Tom?"

"Do?" said Tom, flaring up. "What do you mean?"

"Can she play?"

"No, and I am glad she can't. If ever there was a bore, it is theperformances of you young ladies on the piano. It's just to show whatyou can do. Who cares, except the music master?"

"Does she sing?"

"I don't know!"

"Can she speak French?"

"French!" cried Tom. "Who wants her to speak French? We talk English inthis country."

"But, my dear boy, we often have to use French or some other language, there are so many foreigners that one meets in society. And a ladymust know French at least. Does she know anything?"

"I don't know," said Tom. "I have no doubt she does. I haven't triedher. How much, do you suppose, do girls in general know? girls withever so much money and family? And who cares how much they know? Onedoes not seek a lady's society for the purpose of being instructed."

"One might, and get no harm," said the sister softly; but Tom flung outof the room. "Mamma, it is serious."

"Do you think so?" asked the elder lady, now thrusting aside all herpapers.

"I am sure of it. And if we do not do something – we shall all be sorryfor it."

"What is this girl, Julia? Is she pretty?"

Julia hesitated. "Yes," she said. "I suppose the men would call her so."

"You don't?"

"Well, yes, mamma; she is pretty, handsome, in a way; though she hasnot the least bit of style; not the least bit! She is rather peculiar; and I suppose with the men that is one of her attractions."

"Peculiar how?" said the mother, looking anxious.

"I cannot tell; it is indefinable. And yet it is very marked. Just thatwant of style makes her peculiar."

"Awkward?"

"No."

"Not awkward. How then? Shy?"

"No."

"How then, Julia? What is she like?"

"It is hard to tell in words what people are like. She is plainlydressed, but not badly; Mrs. Wishart would see to that; so it isn'texactly her dress that makes her want of style. She has a very goodfigure; uncommonly good. Then she has most beautiful hair, mamma; afull head of bright brown hair, that would be auburn if it were a shadeor two darker; and it is somewhat wavy and curly, and heaps itselfaround her head in a way that is like a picture. She don't dress it inthe fashion; I don't believe there is a hairpin in it, and I am surethere isn't a cushion, or anything; only this bright brown hair puffingand waving and curling itself together in some inexplicable way, thatwould be very pretty if it were not so altogether out of the way thateverybody else wears. Then there is a sweet, pretty face under it; but you can see at the first look that she was never born or brought upin New York or any other city, and knows just nothing about the world."

"Dangerous!" said the mother, knitting her brows.

"Yes; for just that sort of thing is taking to the men; and they don'tlook any further. And Tom above all. I tell you, he is smitten, mamma.And he goes to Mrs. Wishart's with a regularity which is appalling."

"Tom takes things hard, too," said the mother.

"Foolish boy!" was the sister's comment.

"What can be done?"

"I'll tell you, mamma. I've been thinking. Your health will never standthe March winds in New York. You must go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Florida, for instance?"

"I should like it very well."

"It would be better anyhow than to let Tom get hopelessly entangled."

"Anything would be better than that."

"And prevention is better than cure. You can't apply a cure, besides.When a man like Tom, or any man, once gets a thing of this sort in hishead, it is hopeless. He'll go through thick and thin, and take time torepent afterwards. Men are so stupid!"

"Women sometimes."

"Not I, mamma; if you mean me. I hope for the credit of yourdiscernment you don't."

"Lent will begin soon," observed the elder lady presently.

"Lent will not make any difference with Tom," returned the daughter.

"And little parties are more dangerous than big ones."

"What shall I do about the party we were going to give? I should beobliged to ask Mrs. Wishart."

"I'll tell you, mamma," Julia said after a little thinking. "Let it bea luncheon party; and get Tom to go down into the country that day. Andthen go off to Florida, both of you."