"French!" cried Tom. "Who wants her to speak French? We talk English in this country."
"But, my dear boy, we often have to use French or some other language, there are so many foreigners that one meets in society. And a lady must know French at least. Does she know anything?"
"I don't know," said Tom. "I have no doubt she does. I haven't tried her. How much, do you suppose, do girls in general know? girls with ever so much money and family? And who cares how much they know? One does not seek a lady's society for the purpose of being instructed."
"One might, and get no harm," said the sister softly; but Tom flung out of the room. "Mamma, it is serious."
"Do you think so?" asked the elder lady, now thrusting aside all her papers.
"I am sure of it. And if we do not do something—we shall all be sorry for it."
"What is this girl, Julia? Is she pretty?"
Julia hesitated. "Yes," she said. "I suppose the men would call her so."
"You don't?"
"Well, yes, mamma; she is pretty, handsome, in a way; though she has not the least bit of style; not the least bit! She is rather peculiar; and I suppose with the men that is one of her attractions."