The question being addressed apparently to the cigarette Miss French took out of a little silver case, lighted, and began to smoke, neither Mrs. Warrick nor Miss Keith answered, each waiting for the other; but it did not matter, Miss French was looking at a photograph in front of her.  With lorgnette to her eyes, she examined it critically.

“Rather a good picture of your brother, Hope.  Didn’t know he’d do anything so human as have a picture taken.”  She took it up.  “Winthrop would hardly take prizes at a beauty show, but he’s certainly all there for something better.  When did you get this?”

“A month ago, I guess.”  Mrs. Warrick took a log from the basket on the hearth and put it on the andirons.  “The editors of the Review made him send his picture when that article of his came out on ’Tax Terrors and Tax Traditions.’  Channing says it’s the best thing that’s been written on taxation for years, and in banking circles—­”

“He’s earned his pedestal.”  Miss French put down her cigarette and handed the case to Claudia.

“Smoke?”

Claudia shook her head.  “Thanks.  I don’t—­”

“Pity.  You’ve lots to learn yet.  Most of you Southerners have, but when you catch up you speed all right.  I’ll give you this for nothing—­don’t toboggan all at once.  Have you seen this picture of Hope’s crank of a brother?  You needn’t expect to meet him.  He comes of good Vermont stock, and its granite is no firmer than his principles; but he has no manners.  I’ve known him fifteen years and am qualified to speak.”

“He has got manners!” Mrs. Warrick turned indignantly toward Miss French.  “Claudia only got here Thursday night, and Winthrop has been too busy—­”

“Busy!  You’re dippy about Winthrop, Hope.  He’s the most indifferent human being to other human beings that walks this earth, and has more friends—­men friends—­than any man I know.  He’s rotten spoiled; that’s what’s the matter with him.  He’s been chased, I admit.  What uncaught man of means isn’t?  I’ve no patience with Winthrop.  It’s natural young girls should bore him, but that’s no reason why he should live so entirely to himself.”

“Perhaps”—­Claudia took up a letter from the table in front of her and with it tapped her lips absently—­“perhaps he prefers to live that way.  I wonder, Miss French, if you can tell me where Kroonstater’s is?  No one here seems to know, and every day I get further commissions from my county which can only be filled there.  Years ago some one from Brooke Bank bought wonderful and marvelous Christmas things from Kroonstater’s, and ever since it’s been the one store in New York for many of our people.  I must find it.”

“Kroonstater’s?” Miss French again put up her lorgnette.  “Never heard of it.”

Claudia laughed.  “I see you, too, have something to learn.  You don’t know the joy of shopping if you don’t know a store of that kind.  I suppose I’ll have to find it by myself.”