‘I will answer for his trying to have things pleasantly and perhaps artistically arranged,’ said Ernest, following out the sketch; ‘but as for the making money, I have so little interest in it as one of the fine arts, that I may fail in that.’ ‘But that is the foundation of all the good deeds that you may do, so at least papa says. If a man doesn’t make money, I heard him say once, he shows all the world that there is some quality lacking in him, and any little that he can say or do will not have its just weight; he is regarded only as an unpractical, unsuccessful enthusiast.’ ‘I hate the word enthusiast,’ said Mr. Neuchamp, ‘or rather the sense of disparagement in which it is generally used. It has come to mean, a man who is obstinately bent on a course of conduct which is wrong, or who exaggerates the degree or importance of his practice in what is right.’ ‘I cannot say that I am particularly fond of the word or of the idea myself, woman as I am; and you know that we are supposed to be full of enthusiasm on every conceivable subject from parasols to politics.’ ‘And why does Miss Frankston add her powerful influence to the world’s Philistinism, already sufficient for its needs?’ asked Ernest, with a slight tinge of satire. ‘I don’t say that I deny or distrust enthusiasm in men; and I can imagine a sincere respect and liking for the individual to go with a distrust of the quality, and for this reason. We may have the greatest admiration for this lofty feeling and generous self-denial which go to compose the character of the enthusiast; but we may smile at the likelihood of any of his great schemes issuing in glory and success.’ ‘But, surely,’ pleaded Ernest, ‘many of the great deeds which embellish history and which have ennobled our common natures have been nurtured in the brains, wrought out by the hands of men whom the world call enthusiasts.’ ‘Of that fact I am not so sure,’ answered Antonia. ‘I should rather say that the successful heroes were men of steadfast nature, not particularly acted upon by joy or despondency, whom success did not exhilarate, nor adversity bow down; through good and evil report, failure, or the harder trial of success, they bore themselves calmly and strongly.’ ‘But how about the sea—and the mysterious intoxication communicated by its very appearance?’ asked Ernest mischievously. ‘Is there no enthusiasm about such a feeling?’ ‘All those sensations,’ laughed the girl, ‘belong to the ideal Antonia Frankston, of which only a glimpse is permitted to any one from time to time. The real Miss Frankston——’ ‘What does she do?’ ‘Makes puddings, keeps the household accounts, orders dinner, and has distinct ideas on the subject of the main chance; _very_ prosaic this last. Is not that a lovely nook, and _such_ a pretty house?’