“The family physician of East Lancaster.”
“He wasn’t here last Wednesday.”
“That was because you and your mother had just come. Aunt Peace sent him a note, saying that her attention was for the moment occupied by other guests from out of town. It was the first Wednesday evening he has missed for more than ten years.”
“Oh,” said Lynn. “Are they going to be married?”
“Aunt Peace wouldn’t marry anybody. She receives Doctor Brinkerhoff because she is sorry for him.
“He has no social position,” Iris continued, feeling the unspoken question. “He is not of our class and he used to live in West Lancaster, but Aunt Peace says that any gentleman who is received by a lady in her bedroom may also be received in her parlour. Another lady, who thinks as Aunt Peace does, entertains him on Saturday evenings.”
Iris sat there demurely, her rosy lips primly pursed, and vigorously rubbed the tall candlestick. Lynn fairly choked with laughter. “Oh,” he cried, “you funny little thing!”
“I am not a little thing and I am not funny. I consider you very impertinent.”
“What is ‘social position’?” asked Irving, instantly sobering. “How do we get it?”
“It is born with us,” answered Iris, dipping her flannel cloth in ammonia, “and we have to live up to it. If we have low tastes, we lose it, and it never comes back.”