"How exactly you get at the heart of things," returned Kenneth, laughing. "The world is full of just that kind of people. You like Miss—Fuller is her name?"
"I like her, yes. She isn't at all a bad sort. I've known her since we were little tots who went to the same school. I've not a thing against her except that lately she has acquired the broad a, and uses it too lavishly, scarce an a escapes her. She says awnd and hawnd as cheerfully as she does calm and alms. I believe the whole family have adopted the pronunciation within the past year, and they display it conspicuously, not as an inherent part of their speech, but as a desirable adjunct."
"Broad a's are like genius," returned Kenneth, "they must be born in one. They can't be very well acquired, I notice."
"Oh, some persons are quite successful in conquering them, but Mrs. Dow's family pin them on. It is entirely too obvious that they were not there in the first place. But, oh dear me, what am I doing, slandering my neighbors? I must stop at once."
"You can scarcely call it slander. We might say it is only a species of analysis. One has a right to analyze."
"Not too much. It gets one into a habit of being over critical, and that deteriorates into fault-finding."
"So we must stop on the safe side. Very well. I shall begin at once to praise your friend to the jar-fly—I beg your pardon—to Mr. Mitchell."
They followed on through the stile, and up the road skirting the pasture, to the point beyond. And here the men left the two girls. At parting Kenneth furtively opened his hand and displayed the little talisman for a second.
"You won't forget to see about the landscape Mr. Mitchell wants painted on my talisman," said Gwen, ignoring the pebble Kenneth held.
He shut his fingers tightly. "I'll not forget," he said, and walked abruptly away.