"It is a fine menagerie. Very soon you will hear of Aunt Gainor Wynne,—every one calls her aunt; I should not dare to do so,—a sturdy Federalist lady, with a passion for old china, horses, and matchmaking, the godmother of Mrs. Swanwick. Take care; she will hate or love you at sight, and as great a maker of mischief as ever perplexed good sense; as tender an old woman at times as ever lacked need of onions to fetch tears; a fine lady when she chooses.
"There, I have done you a service and saved your wits industry. You listen well. There is a savor of grace in that. It is a virtue of the smoker. Question me if you like."
Nothing could better have pleased the young man.
"I would know more of this town, sir," and he told of his quest of a tavern. The German laughed.
"A good lesson—Federalists and ape democrats—wild politics of a nation in its childhood. Three great men,—Washington, Hamilton, James Wilson, and perhaps John Adams; well—great merchants, Willings, Bingham, and Girard; and besides these, Quakers, many of them nobler for a creed unworkable in a naughty world, with offshoots of 'world's people,' which saved some fortunes in the war; and, ah, a sect that will die away,—Free Quakers, high-minded gentlemen who made up for a century of peace when they elected to draw the sword. I fear I have been tedious."
"No, not at all; you are most kind, sir, and most interesting. I am sure to like it all. I hope my mother will be contented. We have never of late years been used to luxuries."
"She can hardly fail to be satisfied; but it is a simple life. There are only two servants, Cicero, and Nanny, once a slave, now, as Mrs. Swanwick says, a servant friend—ah, and a stiff Episcopal. She has never ceased to wonder why her mistress ever became a Quaker. I am much of her way of thinking. Are you of a mind to walk and see a little of the city? Later we will call upon Mr. Wynne." As they rose, he added: "I did not speak of the wrecks of French nobles cast on these shores—only a few as yet. You will see them by and by. They are various—but in general perplexed by inheritance of helplessness. Once for all you are to understand that my room is always and equally yours. Of course you use the foils. Yes; well, we shall fence in the garden. And now come; let us go out."
"I forgot, sir. My mother bade me thank you for the roses. She has as yet no English, or would herself have thanked you."
"But I myself speak French—of a kind. It will serve to amuse madame; but never will you hear French at its best until Miss Wynne does talk it."