“I'm not making excuses! Isn't Mr. Atherton in the most fashionable society?” “Yes. Why don't you ask some other fashionable people?” “Olive, this is all nonsense,--perfect nonsense! I can invite any one I like to meet any one I like, and if I choose to show Mr. Hubbard's wife a little attention, I can do it, can't I?” “Oh, of course!” “And what would be the use of inviting fashionable people--as you call them--to meet them? It would just embarrass them, all round.” “Perfectly correct, Miss Kingsbury. All that I want you to do is to face the facts of the case. I want you to realize that, in showing Mr. Hubbard's wife this little attention, you're not doing it because you scorn to drop an old friend, and want to do him the highest honor; but because you think you can palm off your second-class acquaintances on them for first-class, and try to make up in that way for telling her she had a hooked nose!” “You _know_ that I didn't tell her she had a hooked nose.” “You told her that she was a Roman matron,--it's the same thing,” said Olive. Miss Kingsbury bit her lip and tried to look a dignified resentment. She ended by saying, with feeble spite, “I shall have the little evening for all you say. I suppose you won't refuse to come because I don't ask the whole Blue Book to meet them.” “Of course we shall come! I wouldn't miss it for anything. I always like to see how you manage your pieces of social duplicity, Clara. But you needn't expect that I will be a party to the swindle. No, Clara! I shall go to these poor young people and tell them plainly, 'This is not the _best_ society; Miss Kingsbury keeps that for--'” “Olive! I think I never saw even you in such a teasing humor.” The tears came into Clara's large, tender blue eyes, and she continued with an appeal that had no effect, “I'm sure I don't see why you should make it a question of anything of the sort. It's simply a wish to--to have a little company of no particular kind, for no partic--Because I want to.” “Oh, that's it, is it? Then I highly approve of it,” said Olive. “When is it to be?” “I sha'n't tell you, now! You may wait till I'm ready,” pouted Clara, as she rose to go. “Don't go away thinking I'm enough to provoke a saint because _you've_ got mad at me, Clara!” “Mad? You know I'm not mad! But I think you might be a _little_ sympathetic _some_times, Olive!” said her friend, kissing her. “Not in cases of social duplicity, Clara. My wrath is all that saves you. If you were not afraid of me, you would have been a lost worldling long ago.” “I know you always really love me,” said Miss Kingsbury, tenderly.