“Heaven forbid those savage days should ever return.  We will defeat this gentleman quietly, if you please.”

“How?”

“Well, whenever he does this sort of thing, hide your anger; be polite and dignified; but gradually drop the conversation, and manage to convey to the rest that it is useless contending against a wet blanket.  Why, you foolish boy, do you think Grace Carden likes him any the better?  Whilst you and I talk, she is snubbing him finely.  So you must stay here with me, and give them time to quarrel.  There, to lessen the penance, we will talk about her.  Last time we met her, she told me you were the best-dressed gentleman in the room.”

“And did she like me any better for that?”

“Don’t you be ungracious, dear.  She was proud of you.  It gratified her that you should look well in every way.  Oh, if you think that we are going to change our very natures for you, and make light of dress—­why did I send you to a London tailor? and why am I always at you about your gloves?”

“Mother, I am on thorns.”

“Well, we will go back.  Stop; let me take a peep first.”

She took a peep, and reported,

“The little circle is broken up.  Mr. Coventry could not amuse them as you did.  Ah! she is in the sulks, and he is mortified.  I know there’s a French proverb ‘Les absens ont toujours tort.’  But it is quite untrue; judicious absence is a weapon, and I must show you how and when to use it.”

“Mother, you are my best friend.  What shall we do next?”

“Why, go back to the room with me, and put on an imperturbable good humor, and ignore him; only mind you do that politely, or you will give him an advantage he is too wise to give you.”

Henry was about to obey these orders, but Miss Carden took the word out of his mouth.

“Well! the cactus?”

Then, as it is not easy to reply to a question so vague, Henry hesitated.

“There, I thought so,” said Grace.

“What did you think?” inquired Mrs. Little.

“Oh, people don’t go into hot-houses to see a cactus; they go to flirt or else gossip.  I’ll tell Mrs. White to set a short-hand writer in the great aloe, next party she gives.  Confess, Mrs. Little, you went to criticise poor us, and there is no cactus at all.”

“Miss Carden, I’m affronted.  You shall smart for this.  Henry, take her directly and show her the cactus, and clear your mother’s character.”

Henry offered his arm directly, and they went gayly off.

“Is she gone to flirt, or to gossip?” asked a young lady.

“Our watches must tell us that,” said Mrs. Little.  “If they stay five minutes—­gossip.”

“And how many—­flirtation?”

“Ah, my dear, you know better than I do.  What do you say? 
Five-and-twenty?”

The young ladies giggled.