Margaret had been sitting quite silent for some time, and Gaston, observing this, purposely drew her into the conversation, a thing his sister-in-law would never have done, for the reason that she had observed that her young cousin possessed the not very common charm of listening and looking on with a perfect grace. “I have never been to New York,” said Margaret, in answer to this direct appeal, “and I have only a limited idea of its advantages as a place of residence, though I don’t doubt they are very great.” “They are, indeed,” said Louis, observing her with a furtive scrutiny across the graceful mass of bloom and leafage in the _épergne_. “You will like it immensely.” “If I ever make its acquaintance,” said Margaret, smiling. “Washington seemed to me the border-land of the Antipodes before I came here, and I have never thought of going beyond it.” “You have lived, then, altogether in the South?” said Gaston, with a tinge of incredulity in his voice, so faint as to escape Margaret, but perfectly evident to Mrs. Gaston, for the reason, perhaps, that she was listening for it. “Yes, altogether,” Margaret answered. “My poor little cousin is in a most benighted condition,” Mrs. Gaston said. “She has not only never been to New York, but--only think!--until to-day she never heard of Ames & Gaston!” “Impossible! Unbelievable!” said Louis. “Was it for this that they designed ‘All Saints,’ and have even been mentioned in connection with the new skating-rink? Eugenia, you are a true friend. It will not be necessary for me to carry a slave about with me to remind me that I am a man, like the great monarch we read of in history; a sister-in-law is a capital substitute and performs her office quite as faithfully.” “Perhaps it is well for me,” said Margaret, smiling demurely, “that I began my list of ignorances with such an imposing one; it will make those that follow seem trivial by comparison.” “There is wisdom in what you say, Miss Trevennon,” said Louis; “and if you wish to impress yourself with the magnitude of the present one, get Eugenia to take you to see ‘All Saints.’” The conversation now turned into other channels, and it was not until Margaret was saying good-night to Mrs. Gaston, in the latter’s dressing-room, that she reverted to this subject. “I can well believe that Mr. Gaston is a clever architect,” she said, “his eye is so keen and steady. I should like to see some of his work. This ‘All Saints’ Church is very beautiful, I suppose. Shall we really go to see it some day?” Mrs. Gaston broke into her little light laugh.