Miss Wort came in breathless, and paused, and greeted Bessie in a way that showed her wits were otherwise engaged.  “It is the income-tax,” she explained parenthetically, with an appealing look round at the company.  “I have been so put out this morning; I never had my word doubted before.  Jimpson is the collector this year—­”

“Jimpson!” broke out Miss Buff impetuously.  “I should like to know who they will appoint next to pry into our private affairs?  As long as old Dobbs collected all the rates and taxes they were just tolerable, but since they have begun to appoint new men every year my patience is exhausted.  Talk of giving us votes at elections:  I would rather vote at twenty elections than have Tom, Dick, and Harry licensed to inquire into my money-matters.  Since Dobbs was removed we have had for assessors of income-tax both the butchers, the baker, the brewer, the miller, the little tailor, the milk-man; and now Jimpson at the toy-shop, of all good people!  There will soon be nobody left but the sweep.”

“The sweep is a very civil man, but Jimpson is impertinent.  I told him the sum was not correct, and he answered me:  ’The government of the country must have money to carry on; I have nothing to do with the sum except to collect it.  If you don’t like it, ma’am, you’ve got to appeal and go before the commissioners.’  He may puzzle me with his figures, but he will never convince me I have the income, for I have not.  And he said if I supposed he was fond of the job I was mistaken.”

“Can Mr. Carnegie help you, Miss Wort?  Men manage these things so much more easily than we do,” said Mrs. Carnegie kindly.

“Thank you, but I paid the demand as the least trouble and to have done with it.”

“Of course; I would pay half I am possessed of rather rather than go before the commissioners,” said Miss Buff.  “Old Phipps is one of them; and here he is.  Come to see you, Bessie; you are having quite a levee.  I shall be off now.”  Miss Buff rose, and Miss Wort with her, but before they went there were some rallying speeches to be exchanged between Miss Buff and the quaint old bachelor.  They were the most friendly of antagonists, and their animosity was not skin-deep.  “Have you seen Lady Latimer since the last school committee, Mr. Phipps?” asked Miss Buff, in mischievous allusion to their latest difference of opinion.

“No.  I always keep as far as possible out of her ladyship’s way.”

“If you had her spirit of charity you would not avow it.”

“You take the name of charity in vain.  ’It is the beginning, the excuse, and the pretext for a thousand usurpations.’  Poverty has a new terror now-a-days in the officiousness of women with nothing to do but play at charity.”

Miss Wort shook her head and shut her eyes, as if to stave off the shock of this profanity.  Miss Buff only laughed the more merrily, and declared that Mr. Phipps himself had as much to answer for as anybody in Beechhurst, if charity was a sin.