"Why, grandmamma," cries Netta, "you are really eloquent!"
"So is Gertrude, at such times as those I speak of. Oh, she is a girl after my own heart!"
"She must be a very agreeable young lady, from your account," said Mr. Petrancourt. "We must know her."
"You will not find her of the same stamp as most of the agreeable young ladies whom you meet in gay circles. I must tell you what Horace Willard said of her. He is an accomplished man and a scholar—his opinion is worth something. He had been staying a fortnight at the United States Hotel, and used to call occasionally to see us. The day he left he came to me and said—'Where is Miss Flint? I must have one more refreshing conversation with her before I go. It is a perfect rest to be in that young lady's society, for she never seems to be making the least effort to talk with me, or to expect any attempt on my part; she is one of a few girls who never speak unless they have something to say.' How she has contrived to quiet those children!"
Mr. Petrancourt followed the direction of Madame Gryseworth's eyes. "Is that the young lady you were speaking of?" asked he. "The one with great dark eyes, and such a splendid head of hair? I have been noticing her for some time."
"Yes, that is she, talking to the little girl in black."
"Madame Gryseworth," said Dr. Jeremy, through the long, open window, and stepping inside as he spoke, "I see you appreciate our Gerty; I did not say too much in praise of her good sense, did I?"
"Not half enough, doctor; she is a very bright girl, and a very good one, I believe."
"Good!" exclaimed the doctor; "I didn't know that goodness counted in these places; but if goodness is worth speaking of, I should like to tell you a little of what I know of that girl;" and, without going closely into particulars, he commenced dilating enthusiastically upon Gertrude's noble and disinterested conduct under trying circumstances, and had recounted, in a touching manner, her devotion to one old paralytic—to another infirm and ill-tempered old man and his slowly-declining daughter—and would have proceeded to speak of her recent self-sacrificing labours in Emily's service; but Miss Graham touched his arm, spoke in a low voice, and interrupted him.
He stopped abruptly. "Emily, my dear," said he, "I beg your pardon; I didn't know you were here; but what you say is very true. Gertrude is a private character, and I have no right to bring her before the public. I am an old fool, certainly; but there, we are all friends." And he looked around the circle a little anxiously, casting a slightly suspicious glance at the Petrancourts, and finally rested his gaze upon a figure behind Ellen Gryseworth. The latter turned, not having been previously aware that any stranger was near, and, to her surprise, found herself face to face with Mr. Phillips! "Good evening, sir," said she, on recognising him; but he did not seem to hear her. Madam Gryseworth, who had never seen him before, looked up inquiringly.