Lois thought she had talked enough, and would say no more. Tom saw she would not, and gave her glance after glance of admiration, which began to grow into veneration. What a pure creature was this! what a gentle simplicity, and yet what a quiet dignity! what absolutely natural sweetness, with no airs whatever! and what a fresh beauty.
"I think it must be easier to be good where you live," Tom added presently, and sincerely.
"Why?" said Lois.
"I assure you it ain't easy for a fellow here."
"What do you mean by 'good,' Mr. Caruthers? not drinking wine?" said
Lois, somewhat amused.
"I mean, to be like you," said he softly. "You are better than all the rest of us here."
"I hope not. Mr. Caruthers, we must go back to Mrs. Wishart, or certainly she will not think me good."
So they went back, through the empty lunch room.
"I thought you would be here to-day," said Tom. "I was not going to miss the pleasure; so I took a frightfully early train, and despatched business faster than it had ever been despatched before, at our house. I surprised the people, almost as much as I surprised my mother and Julia. You ought always to wear a white camellia in your hair!"
Lois smiled to herself. If he knew what things she had to do at her own home, and how such an adornment would be in place! Was it easier to be good there? she queried. It was easier to be pleased here. The guests were mostly gone.