We sat under The Palm. Mrs. Fielden never rushes into a conversation. Presently she said,—
"Why do you come to this sort of thing? It can't amuse you."
"You told me the other day," I said, "that I ought to cultivate a small mind and small interests."
"Did I?" said Mrs. Fielden lightly. "If I think one thing one day, I generally think quite differently a day or two after. To-night, for instance, I think it is a mistake for you to lean against the Miss Traceys' new blue walls and watch us dance."
"I'm not sure that it isn't better than sitting at home and reading how well my old regiment is doing in South Africa. Besides, you know, I am writing a diary."
"Are you?" said Mrs. Fielden.
"You advised it," I said.
"Did I?"
When Mrs. Fielden is provoking she always looks ten times prettier than she does at other times.
"A good many people in this little place," I said, "have made up their minds to 'do the work that's nearest' and to help 'a lame dog over stiles.' I think I should be rather a brute if I didn't respond to their good intentions."