"If I went to your house, it would seem unfriendly not to go to other houses."
"Why shouldn't you go to other houses? Done anything you're ashamed of?" He laughed uproariously at his own wit. "Come now; don't be finikin and ladylike!"
"I don't make visits," she explained, the color rising angrily in her cheeks.
"Gad-a-mercy! Why not?" he interrupted. "Do you think you're too good for us here in Old Chester?"
"Oh, Mr. Wright!"
"Or perhaps Old Chester is too good for you?"
His face had softened wonderfully; he was looking at her with the same quizzical delight with which he would look at one of his canaries when he caught it, and held it struggling in his hand. "Are we too good for you?" he jeered, "too—"
He stopped abruptly, his laugh breaking off in the middle. Then his mouth fell slowly open in blank amazement; he leaned forward in his chair and stared at her without a word.
"I don't care for society," she said, in a frightened way, and rose as if to bring the visit to an end.
But Benjamin Wright sat still, slowly nodding his head. "You don't care for society? I wonder why."