"I don't know his wife," spoke Mrs. Chester. "She is rather exclusive, most likely. The wife of a man who has made so much noise in the world may look down upon us."
Lady Ellis raised her black eyebrows and had a great mind to tell Mrs. Chester to speak for herself; she was not accustomed to be looked down upon.
"Does the wife wear a threadbare gown?" she asked, having heard the description of the professor's coats.
"Very likely," said Mrs. Chester. "She need not, you know; they are rich."
"Rich, are they?"
"Very rich--now. In early life they had to pinch and screw, and live without a servant. Dr. Macpherson told us about it."
"He is not above confessing it, then?"
"He!" Mrs. Chester laughed. The simple professor, being "above" confessing anything of that sort, was a ludicrous idea. She attempted to describe him as he was.
"My dear Lady Ellis, you can have no notion of his simplicity--his utter unworldliness. In all that relates to learning and that sort of thing he is of the very keenest intellect; sharp; but in social life he is just a child. He would respect a woman who has to wash up her dishes herself just as much as he would if she kept ten servants to do it for her. I don't believe he can distinguish any difference."
"Oh!" concluded Lady Ellis, casting a gesture of contempt on the absent and unconscious professor.