“The Syphon?”

Mrs. Ledwith spoke with a capital S in her mind; but was not quite sure whether what Mrs. Scherman meant might be a line of Atlantic steamers or the sea-serpent.

“Yes, ma’am.  The emptying back and forth.  There isn’t much that is foreign over there, now, nor very much that is native here.  The hemispheres have got miserably mixed up.  I think when I go ’strange countries for to see,’ it will have to be Patagonia or Independent Tartary.”

Uncle Oldways turned round with his great chair, so as to face Asenath, and laughed one of his thorough fun digesting laughs, his keen eyes half shut with the enjoyment, and sparkling out through their cracks at her.

But Asenath had resumed her photographs with the sweetest and quietest unconsciousness.

Mrs. Ledwith let her alone after that; and the talk rambled on to the schools in Munich, and the Miracle Plays at Oberammergau.

“To think of that invasion!” said Asenath, in a low tone to Desire, “and corrupting that into a show, with a run of regular performances!  I do believe they have pulled down the last unprofaned thing now, and trampled over it.”

“If we go,” said Mrs. Megilp, “we shall join the Fayerwerses, and settle down with them quietly in some nice place; and then make excursions.  We shall not try to do all Europe in three months; we shall choose, and take time.  It is the only way really to enjoy or acquire; and the quiet times are so invaluable for the lessons and languages.”

Mrs. Megilp made up her little varnishes with the genuine gums of truth and wisdom; she put a beautiful shine even on to her limited opportunities and her enforced frugalities.

“Mrs. Ledwith, you ought to let Agatha and Florence go too.  I would take every care of them; and the expense would be so divided—­carriages, and couriers, and everything—­that it would be hardly anything.”

“It is a great opportunity,” Mrs. Ledwith said, and sighed.  “But it is different with us from what it is with you.  We must still be a family here, with nearly the same expenses.  To be sure Desire has done with school, and she doesn’t care for gay society, and Helena is a mere child yet; if it ever could”—­

And so it went on between the ladies, while Mr. Oldways and Mr. Ledwith and Frank Scherman got into war talk, and Bismarck policy, and French poss—­no, im-possibilities.

“I don’t think Uncle Oldways minded much,” said Mrs. Ledwith to Agatha, and Mrs. Megilp, up-stairs, after everybody had gone who was to go.

“He never minds anything,” said Agatha.

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Megilp, slowly.  “He seemed mightily pleased with what Asenath Scherman said.”

“O, she’s pretty, and funny; it makes no difference what she says; people are always pleased.”

“We might dismiss one girl this winter,” said Mrs. Ledwith, “and board in some cheap country place next summer.  I dare say we could save it in the year’s round; the difference, I mean.  When you weren’t actually travelling, it wouldn’t cost more than to have you here,—­dress and all.