"Indiana Stillwater," said Mrs. Bunker, "the way you crawl to that woman is very un-American."
"In England it's the custom for people to pay great respect to their elders."
"That's a nice slap in the face for us," remarked Mrs. Bunker.
"Grandma Chazy, you don't want the deference due to age," answered Indiana, propitiatingly. "You won't for many years, I hope. Think of treating ma and pa like that. They wouldn't like it a bit."
"No," said Mrs. Stillwater, "we're satisfied as long as you love us. But don't let anyone else take our place." She pressed her lips to Indiana's soft hair, crying silently. Indiana tightened her arms about her mother's waist, unaware of the tears that were falling on her yellow puffs.
"Well, then," said Mrs. Bunker, "just put on your things and come and have supper with us at the hotel. All the Americans in town will be there, beside the English celebrities. Come along. I'll show you the whole push."
"I'd love to go."
"We'll have a good time, if it is Sunday night. Well, what are you sitting there for? Get your things on."
"I must ask my husband," said Indiana, slowly, the eager sparkle suddenly dying in her eyes.
Mrs. Bunker sank down in the chair, from which she had sprung in her enthusiasm. "Indiana Stillwater, I never thought you would turn out such a spiritless kind of a woman. Of course it's none of my business, but if you start in this way, you'll lose your entire individuality."