"Mrs. Goldsborough's party is to-night, is it not?" said Mr. Pelby Smith to his wife; "are we going my dear?"
"Apropos of parties," returned she, waiving the question; "I don't see how we are to get on any longer without giving one ourselves."
"Why so, my dear? We cannot afford to give a party, and that will be an apology all-sufficient to a woman of Cousin Sabina's sense."
"Cousin Sabina!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith; "as if I, or any one else, ever thought of going to the trouble of a party for a plain old maid, like cousin Sabina Incledon!"
"My dear, I wish you would not speak in that way of Cousin Sabina; she is an excellent woman, of superior mind, and manners to command respect in any society."
"That may be your opinion, Mr. Smith," answered the lady tartly; "mine is that a quiet old maid, from somewhere far off in the country, and with an income of two or three hundred dollars a year, would not make much of a figure in our society. At all events, I shan't make a trial of it."
"I thought you alluded to her visit as making it incumbent on us to give a party," said Mr. Smith meekly; "there is no other reason, I believe."
"You will allow me to have some judgment in such matters, Mr. Smith. I think it is absolutely necessary that we should, that is, if we wish to go to parties for the future. We have been going to them all our lives without giving any, and people will grow tired of inviting us."
"Then, my dear, why not make up our minds to stay at home. I would rather."
"But I would not, Mr. Smith. I shall go to parties as long as possible. My duty to my children requires it."