"Why not?" Lois asked, with her bright smile. Tom glanced at her from under his brows, and grew as dark as a thundercloud. She was ministering to Tom's wife in the prettiest way; not assuming anything, and yet acting in a certain sort as mistress of ceremonies. And Mrs. Caruthers was coming out of her apathy every now and then, and looking at her in a curious attentive way. I dare say it struck Tom hard. For he could not but see that to all her natural sweetness Lois had added now a full measure of the ease and grace which come from the habit of society, and which Lois herself had once admired in the ladies of his family. "Ay, even they wouldn't say she was nobody now!" he said to himself bitterly. And Philip, he saw, was so accustomed to this fact, that he took it as a matter of course.
"Where are you going after the AEggischhorn?" he went on, to say something.
"We mean to work our way, by degrees, to Zermatt."
"We are going to Zermatt," Mrs. Caruthers put in blandly. "We might travel in company."
"Can you walk?" asked Philip, smiling.
"Walk!"
"Yes. We do it on foot."
"What for? Pray, pardon me! But are you serious?"
"I am in earnest, if that is what you mean. We do not look upon it in a serious light. It's rather a jollification."
"It is far the pleasantest way, Mrs. Caruthers," Lois added.