"Of course he did; why not?" Miss Clendenning was erect now, her eyes snapping with roguish indignation. "Anybody would be glad to take Oliver into their home, especially when they have two marriageable daughters. Oliver's bow as he enters a room is a passport to any society in the world, my dear Richard. My Lord Chesterfield Clayton has no better manners nor any sweeter smile than our own Lorenzo. Watch Oliver now as he talks to those girls."
Richard had been watching him; he had hardly taken his eyes from him. Every time he looked at him his heart swelled the more with pride.
"And you think, Lavinia, Mr. Slade invited him because of his manners?" He was sure of it. He only wanted her to confirm it.
"Of course. What else?" and she cut her eye at him knowingly. "How many of the other clerks did he invite? Not one. I wanted to find out and I made Ollie write me. They are queer people, these Northerners. They affect to despise good blood and good breeding and good manners. That's all fol-de-rol--they love it. They are eternally talking of equality--equality; one man as GOOD as another. When they say that one man is as GOOD as another, Richard, they mean that THEY are as good, never the other poor fellow."
"Now, my dear Lavinia, stop a moment," laughed the inventor in protest. "You do not mean to say there are really no gentlemen north of us?"
"Plenty of gentlemen, Richard, but few thoroughbreds.
There is a distinction, you know."
"Which do you value most?"
"Oh, the thoroughbred. A gentleman might some time offend you by telling you the truth about yourself or your friends. The thoroughbred, never," and she lifted her hands in mock horror.
"And he could be a rogue and yet his manners would save him?"
"Quite true, dear Richard, quite true. The most charming man I ever met except your dear self"--and she smiled graciously and lowered her voice as if what she was about to tell was in the strictest confidence--"was a shrivelled-up old prince who once called on my father and myself in Vienna. He was as ugly as a crab, and walked with a limp. There had been some words over a card-table, he told me, and the other man fired first. I was a young girl then, but I have never forgotten him to this day.
Indeed, my dear Nathan," and she turned to the old musician and laid her wee hand confidingly on his knee, "but for the fact that the princess was a most estimable woman and still alive, I might have been --well, I really forget what I might have been, for I do not remember his name, but it was something most fascinating in five or six syllables. Now all that man ever did to make that unaccountable impression upon me was just to pick up my handkerchief.
Oh, Nathan, it really gives me a little quiver to this day! I never watch Oliver bow but I think of my prince. Now I have never found that kind of quality, grace, bearing, presence--whatever you may choose to call it--in the Puritan. He has not time to learn it. He despises such subtle courtesies.
They smack of the cavalier and the court to him.
He is content with a nod of the head and a hurried handshake. So are his neighbors. They would grow suspicious of each other's honesty if they did more. Tut, tut, my dear Richard! My prince's grooms greeted each other in that way."
Richard and Nathan laughed heartily. "And you only find the manners of the ante-chamber and the throne-room South?" asked the inventor.
"Um--not always. It used to be so in my day and yours, but we are retrograding. It is unpardonable in our case because we have known better. But up there" (and she pointed in the direction of the North Star) "they never did know better; that's some excuse for them."
"Ah, you incorrigible woman, you must not talk so. You have not seen them all. Many of the men who do me the honor to come to my workroom are most delightful persons. Only last week there came one of the most interesting scientists that I have met for--"
"Of course, of course, I have not a doubt of it, my dear Richard, but I am talking of men, my friend, not dried mummies."
Again Richard laughed. One of his greatest pleasures was to draw Miss Clendenning out on topics of this class. He knew she did not believe one-half that she said. It was the way she parried his thrusts that delighted him.
"Well, then, take Mr. Winthrop Pierce Lawrence.
No more charming gentleman ever entered my house.
You were in London at the time or you would certainly have dined with him here. Mr. Lawrence is not only distinguished as a statesman and a brilliant scholar, but his manners are perfect."
Miss Clendenning turned her head and looked at Richard under her eyelashes. "Where did you say he was from?"
"Boston."
"Boston?" A rippling, gurgling laugh floated through the room.
"Yes, Boston. Why do you laugh?"
"Bostonians, my dear Richard, have habits and customs, never manners. It is impossible that they should. They are seldom underbred, mind you, they are always overbred, and, strange to say, without the slightest sense of humor, for they are all brought up on serious isms and solemn fads. The excitement we have gone through over this outrageous book of this Mrs. Stowe's and all this woman movement is but a part of their training. How is it possible for people who believe in such dreadful persons as this Miss Susan Anthony and that Miss--something-or-other--I forget her name--to know what the word 'home' really means and what graces should adorn it? They could never understand my ugly prince, and he?--well, he would be too polite to tell them what he thought of them. No, my dear Richard, they don't know; they never will know, and they never will be any better."
Oliver had crossed the room and had reached her chair.
"Who will never be any better, you dear Midget?" he cried.
"You, you dear boy, because you could not.
Come and sit by me where I can get my hand on you. If I had my way you would never be out of reach of my five fingers."
Oliver brought up a stool and sat at her feet.
