“But aren’t they always waylaying you to go out with them, dear?” said the little lady inquisitively.

“Only once. Charlotte didn’t like it, and said something⁠—quite politely, of course.”

“Most right of her. They don’t understand our ways. They must find their level.”

Mr. Beebe rather felt that they had gone under. They had given up their attempt⁠—if it was one⁠—to conquer society, and now the father was almost as silent as the son. He wondered whether he would not plan a pleasant day for these folk before they left⁠—some expedition, perhaps, with Lucy well chaperoned to be nice to them. It was one of Mr. Beebe’s chief pleasures to provide people with happy memories.