"We ought to have invited company more."
"Why don't you do it now? If it's for the girls, I don't care if you have the house full all the while."
Mrs. Lapham was forced to a confession full of humiliation. "I don't know who to ask."
"Well, you can't expect me to tell you."
"No; we're both country people, and we've kept our country ways, and we don't, either of us, know what to do. You've had to work so hard, and your luck was so long coming, and then it came with such a rush, that we haven't had any chance to learn what to do with it. It's just the same with Irene's looks; I didn't expect she was ever going to have any, she WAS such a plain child, and, all at once, she's blazed out this way. As long as it was Pen that didn't seem to care for society, I didn't give much mind to it. But I can see it's going to be different with Irene. I don't believe but what we're in the wrong neighbourhood."
"Well," said the Colonel, "there ain't a prettier lot on the Back Bay than mine. It's on the water side of Beacon, and it's twenty-eight feet wide and a hundred and fifty deep. Let's build on it."
Mrs. Lapham was silent a while. "No," she said finally; "we've always got along well enough here, and I guess we better stay."
At breakfast she said casually: "Girls, how would you like to have your father build on the New Land?"
The girls said they did not know. It was more convenient to the horse-cars where they were.
Mrs. Lapham stole a look of relief at her husband, and nothing more was said of the matter.