The judge shook his head in gloomy assent.  His own opinion was that Jane would follow her own instincts in a dog-like fashion if her father was out of the way, and God only knew where they would lead her!  He had brought his own girls, Rose and Netty, with him to visit her, in order that she might have a domestic feminine influence upon her.  They found, accidentally, that she did not know a word of any catechism, and, terrified, loaned her religious novels to convert her:  she took them graciously, but never cut the leaves.  There were to them even more heathenish indications in her hoopless straight skirts:  the good little creatures zealously cut and trimmed a dress for her from the very last patterns.  She put it on, and straightway went through bog and brake with Bruno for mushrooms, coming back with it in tatters.  They chattered in their thin falsetto voices the last Culpepper gossip into her patient ear—­the story of Rosey’s balls at Old Point, and Netty’s lovers, all of whom were “splendid matches until impohverished by the war.”  She listened to their chirping with amused eyes, tapping them, when they were through, approvingly on the head as though they were clever canaries.  The girls told their father that they “feared her principles leaned toward infidelity, and that it was never safe to be intimate with these original women,” and had gone home the next day, not waiting for the judge.  They washed their hands of her, and gloved them again, but he still felt responsible for her.  After he left the captain he went to her, fatherly interest radiant in every feature:  “Mr. Waring is right, Jane.  It is high time that you were taking your part in society.  Your father wishes it.”

“I will do whatever he wishes,” quietly.—­“You did not know us when we lived in the old house in Southwark, Mr. Waring.  We invented our patents then.  Sometimes we could afford to go to the gallery at the theatre when the play was good.  Father and the newsboys would lead the clapping.  And we went once a year in our patched shoes a-fishing for a holiday.  Those were good times.”

“Perfect child of Nature!” telegraphed Mr. Waring uneasily to the judge.  “How Mrs. Wilde will rejoice in you, Miss Swendon!  Nature is her specialty.  She is coming to call this morning.—­Miss Swendon,” turning anxiously to the judge, “can have no better sponsor in society than Mrs. Wilde.  She only can give the accolade to all aspirants.  No amount of money will force an entrance at her doors.  There must be blood—­blood.  ‘Swendon?’ she said when I spoke to her about this call.  ’The Swedish Svens?  I remember.  Queen Christina’s gallant lieutenant was her great-grandfather.  Good stock.  None better.  The girl must belong to our circle.’  So, now it is all settled!” rubbing his hands and smiling.

“Jane is careless,” said the captain eagerly.  “People of the best fashion have called, and she has not even left cards.  Her dress too—­Now a Paris gown, fringes and—­”