“Well, I should like to know what society is coming to, if a common farmer’s boy, of no family, can stumble into town and be invited about to good houses.”
“Coming to? Why, my dear wife, it is coming to its senses. I’m glad, in this particular case, the movement began at our house.”
“Nobody would have paid any attention to him, if you hadn’t talked so much about him,” said Mrs. Tramlay. “One would have thought him a dear old friend, to hear you go on about him as you did.”
“I said nothing but what was true. I merely said he was one of the finest young men I had ever known,—that he was of the highest character, and very intelligent besides.”
“Such qualities don’t make a man fit for society,” said the lady of the house.
“No, I suppose not; if they did we’d see more of them at our receptions and parties.”
“Well, well,” said Tramlay, leaving the table, kissing his wife, and preparing to hurry to his office, “it isn’t your fault; we can’t expect what can’t be had, I suppose.”
“Lucia,” said Mrs. Tramlay, after the children had been despatched to school, “I hope your father’s peculiar notions won’t affect you.”
“About Phil? Nonsense, you dear old worry! But, really, mother, he made quite an impression. A lot of the girls admired him ever so much. I began to apologize and explain, as soon as I could get rid of him; but I found it wasn’t at all necessary.”