"Poor creatures! where will they all go?" said Mrs. Evelyn, comfortably.
"Country's large enough," said Thorn.
"Yes but such a stream of immigration will reach the Pacific, and come back again before long; and then there will be a meeting of the waters! This tide of German and Irish will sweep over everything."
"I suppose, if the land will not bear both, one party will have to seek other quarters," said Mrs. Evelyn, with an exquisite satisfaction, which Fleda could hear in her voice. "You remember the story of Lot and Abraham, Mr. Stackpole when a quarrel arose between them? not about roses."
Mr. Stackpole looked as if women were to say the least incomprehensible.
"Five thousand a week!" he repeated.
"I wish there was a Dead Sea for them all to sheer off into!" said Thorn.
"If you had seen the look of grave rebuke that speech called forth, Mr. Thorn," said Constance, "your feelings would have been penetrated if you have any."
"I had forgotten," he said, looking round with a bland change of manner, "what gentle charities were so near me."
"Mamma!" said Constance, with a most comic show of indignation, "Mr. Thorn thought that with Miss Ringgan he had forgotten all the gentle charities in the room! I am of no further use to society! I will trouble you to ring that bell, Mr. Thorn, if you please. I shall request candles, and retire to the privacy of my own apartment."