“Have you seen the new arrivals?” asked a gentleman of one of his companions.
“No; what new arrivals do you refer to? There are many every day.”
“An old codger from New York—rich as a king, they say—and his ward, who bids fair to be the beauty of the season.”
“Indeed!” returned the lady, assuming a piqued tone. “How dare you make such an assertion, and in the presence of three acknowledged beauties, too?”
“I beg pardon if I have offended,” the gentleman roguishly replied; “but—I have had Washingtonian instructions regarding the principle of truth.”
The young lady tapped him playfully upon the arm with her fan, while she remarked, significantly:
“How glad I am that you have told me of it!” whereupon the whole party joined in a laugh at the “truthful” gentleman’s expense.
“But about this fair charmer,” the lady pursued; “who is she, and what is the name of this ‘old codger’ who is ‘rich as a king’?”
“The lady’s name is Miss Gladstone, and she is not only beautiful, charming, and rich, but is also the author of ‘Chatsworth’s Pride,’ which you have doubtless read.”
“Oh! a blue-stocking!” cried the gay girl, with well-affected horror; and just here another voice chimed in—a voice which made Mr. Rosevelt start and listen more intently: