“Why, what is the matter with Lily’s mother?”

“She isn’t genuine.  Adeline Merrill was never genuine.  She has always had her selfish ends, and she has reached them by crooks and turns.”

“I think Lily is genuine enough,” said George, carelessly, putting another lump of sugar in his cup of chocolate.  “I have seen more brilliant girls, but she is a beauty, and I think she is genuine.”

“Well, perhaps she is,” Mrs. Ramsey admitted.  “I don’t know her very well, but I do know her mother.  I know something now.”

“What?”

“I know you don’t like gossip, but if ever a woman was—­I know it is a vulgar expression—­but if ever a woman was setting her cap for a man, she is setting hers for Dr. Ellridge.  She never goes anywhere evenings, in the hope that he may call, and she sends for him when there is nothing whatever the matter with her, if he doesn’t.  I know, because Dr. Ellridge’s wife’s sister, Miss Emmons, who has kept house for him since his wife died, told me so.  He goes home and tells her, and laughs, but I know she isn’t quite sure that the doctor won’t marry her.”

“Miss Emmons is jealous, perhaps,” said George.  “Perhaps Mrs. Merrill is really ill.”

“No, the doctor says she is not, and Miss Emmons is not jealous.  She told me that as far as she was concerned, although she would lose her home, she should be glad to see the doctor married, if he chose a suitable woman; but I don’t think she likes Mrs. Merrill.  I don’t see how anybody can like a woman who so openly proclaims her willingness to marry a man before he has done her the honor to ask her.  It seems shameless to me.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t,” George said again.  Then he added, “It would be rather hard for Lily if her mother did marry the doctor.  He is a good man enough, but with his own three girls, the oldest older than Lily, she would have a hard time.”

George looked quite sober, reflecting upon the possible sad lot of poor Lily if her mother married the second time.

“Adeline Merrill wouldn’t stop for such a thing as the feelings of her own daughter, if she had her mind set on anything,” said his mother, in her soft voice, which seemed to belie the bitterness of her words.  She was not in reality bitter at all, not even towards Mrs. Merrill, but she had clearly defined rules of conduct for gentlewomen, and she mentioned it when these rules were transgressed.

“Well, mother dear, I can’t see that it is likely to make much difference to either you or me, anyway,” said George, and his mother felt consoled.  She told herself that it was not possible that George thought seriously of Lily, or he would not speak so.

“Miss Stillman is very eccentric,” she remarked, departing from the subject.  “I offered to bring her home with me in the carriage.  I knew you would not mind the extra money.  She has such a cold that I really wondered that she came at all in such a storm; but, no, she seemed fairly indignant at the idea.  I never saw any one so proud.  I asked Mrs. Henry Stillman, but she did not like to have her sister-in-law to go alone, so she would not accept, either; but Miss Stillman walked herself, and made her sister walk, too, and I am positive it was because she was proud.  Do you really mean you think young Maria did not want to see you, George?”