“Yes, mamma, dear,” said the young girl, gently.
“Do you find her very edifying?”
Aurora was silent a moment; then she looked at her mother. “I don’t know, mamma; she is very fresh.”
I ventured to indulge in a respectful laugh. “Your mother has another word for that. But I must not,” I added, “be crude.”
“Ah, vous m’en voulez?” inquired Mrs. Church. “And yet I can’t pretend I said it in jest. I feel it too much. We have been having a little social discussion,” she said to her daughter. “There is still so much to be said.” “And I wish,” she continued, turning to me, “that I could give you our point of view. Don’t you wish, Aurora, that we could give him our point of view?”
“Yes, mamma,” said Aurora.
“We consider ourselves very fortunate in our point of view, don’t we, dearest?” mamma demanded.
“Very fortunate, indeed, mamma.”
“You see we have acquired an insight into European life,” the elder lady pursued. “We have our place at many a European fireside. We find so much to esteem—so much to enjoy. Do we not, my daughter?”
“So very much, mamma,” the young girl went on, with a sort of inscrutable submissiveness. I wondered at it; it offered so strange a contrast to the mocking freedom of her tone the night before; but while I wondered I was careful not to let my perplexity take precedence of my good manners.