Laura—­“I suppose they are rather common, but still I have a great affection for these, because they were given to me by a dear old friend of our family named Murphy.  He was a very charming man, but very eccentric.  We always supposed he was an Irishman, but after be got rich he went abroad for a year or two, and when he came back you would have been amused to see how interested he was in a potato.  He asked what it was!  Now you know that when Providence shapes a mouth especially for the accommodation of a potato you can detect that fact at a glance when that mouth is in repose—­foreign travel can never remove that sign.  But he was a very delightful gentleman, and his little foible did not hurt him at all.  We all have our shams—­I suppose there is a sham somewhere about every individual, if we could manage to ferret it out.  I would so like to go to France.  I suppose our society here compares very favorably with French society does it not, Mrs. Oreille?”

Mrs. O.—­“Not by any means, Miss Hawkins!  French society is much more elegant—­much more so.”

Laura—­“I am sorry to hear that.  I suppose ours has deteriorated of late.”

Mrs. O.—­“Very much indeed.  There are people in society here that have really no more money to live on than what some of us pay for servant hire.  Still I won’t say but what some of them are very good people—­and respectable, too.”

Laura—­“The old families seem to be holding themselves aloof, from what I hear.  I suppose you seldom meet in society now, the people you used to be familiar with twelve or fifteen years ago?”

Mrs. O.—­“Oh, no-hardly ever.”

Mr. O’Riley kept his first rum-mill and protected his customers from the law in those days, and this turn of the conversation was rather uncomfortable to madame than otherwise.

Hon. Mrs. Higgins—­“Is Francois’ health good now, Mrs. Oreille?”

Mrs. O.—­(Thankful for the intervention)—­“Not very.  A body couldn’t expect it.  He was always delicate—­especially his lungs—­and this odious climate tells on him strong, now, after Parry, which is so mild.”

Mrs. H:—­“I should think so.  Husband says Percy’ll die if he don’t have a change; and so I’m going to swap round a little and see what can be done.  I saw a lady from Florida last week, and she recommended Key West.  I told her Percy couldn’t abide winds, as he was threatened with a pulmonary affection, and then she said try St. Augustine.  It’s an awful distance—­ten or twelve hundred mile, they say but then in a case of this kind—­a body can’t stand back for trouble, you know.”

Mrs. O.—­“No, of course that’s off.  If Francois don’t get better soon we’ve got to look out for some other place, or else Europe.  We’ve thought some of the Hot Springs, but I don’t know.  It’s a great responsibility and a body wants to go cautious.  Is Hildebrand about again, Mrs. Gashly?”

Mrs. G.—­“Yes, but that’s about all.  It was indigestion, you know, and it looks as if it was chronic.  And you know I do dread dyspepsia.  We’ve all been worried a good deal about him.  The doctor recommended baked apple and spoiled meat, and I think it done him good.  It’s about the only thing that will stay on his stomach now-a-days.  We have Dr. Shovel now.  Who’s your doctor, Mrs. Higgins?”