“So your son Abel is coming home.  I’m glad to hear it.  I hope he knows how to waltz, and isn’t awkward.  There are some very good matches to be made; and I like to have a young man settle early.  It’s better for his morals.  Men are bad people, my dear.  I think Maria Chubleigh would do very well for Abel.  She had a foolish affair with that Colonel Orson, but it’s all over.  Why on earth do girls fall in love with officers?  They never have any pay worth speaking of, and a girl must tramp all over the land, and live I don’t know how.  Pshaw! it’s a wretched business.  How’s Mr. Dinks?  I saw him and Fanny waltzing last month at the Shrimps’.  Who are the Shrimps?  Somebody says something about the immense fortune Mr. Shrimp has made in the oil trade.  You should have seen Mrs. Winslow Orry peering about at the Shrimps.  I really believe she counted the spoons.  What an eye that woman has, and what a tongue!  Are you really going to Saratoga?  Will Boniface let you?  He is the kindest man!  He is so generous that I sometimes fear somebody’ll be taking advantage of him.  Gracious me! how hot it is!”

It was warm, and Mrs. Dagon fanned herself.  When she and Mrs. Newt met there was a tremendous struggle to get the first innings of the conversation, and neither surrendered the ground until fairly forced off by breathlessness and exhaustion.

“Yes, we shall go to Saratoga,” began Mrs. Newt; “and I want Abel to come, so as to take him.  There’ll be a very pleasant season.  What a pity you can’t go!  However, people must regard their time of life, and take care of their health.  There’s old Mrs. Octoyne says she shall never give up.  She hopes to bring out her great-grand-daughter next winter, and says she has no life but in society.  I suppose you know Herbert Octoyne is engaged to one of the Shrimps.  They keep their carriage, and the girls dress very prettily.  Herbert tells the young men that the Shrimps are a fine old family, which has been long out of society, having no daughters to marry; so they have not been obliged to appear.  But I don’t know about visiting them.  However, I suppose we shall.  Herbert Octoyne will give ’em family, if they really haven’t it; and the Octoynes won’t be sorry for her money.  What a pretty shawl!  Did you hear that Mellish Whitloe has given Laura a diamond pin which cost five hundred dollars?  Extravagant fellow!  Yet I like to have young men do these things handsomely.  I do think it’s such a pity about Laura’s nose—­”

“She can smell with it, I suppose, mother; and what else do you want of a nose?”

It was Miss Fanny Newt who spoke, and who had entered the room during the conversation.  She was a tall young woman of about twenty, with firm, dark eyes, and abundant dark hair, and that kind of composure of manner which is called repose in drawing-rooms and boldness in bar-rooms.

“Gracious, Fanny, how you do disturb one!  I didn’t know you were there.  Don’t be ridiculous.  Of course she can smell with it.  But that isn’t all you want of a nose.”