“I didn’t have to think very hard to guess what would be in this one. The poor man is so alone in Russellville. You know yourself how in a small place there are so few really cultured people.” Mrs. Merwent smoothed out the fingers of the gloves she held. “I thought you always stood up for Russellville, Mamma,” Lucy said. “Now, Lucy, I didn’t mean of course that there were _no_ really well bred people in Russellville. There are few enough here in the North, heaven knows, but Professor Walsh is an unusually well educated man.” “Yes. There are few enough anywhere,” Lucy continued, ignoring Mrs. Merwent’s last allusion. “But you and John lead such an isolated life,” Nannie went on. “I don’t see how you can judge. Don’t you know any of your neighbors, Lucy?” “Well, we haven’t any neighbors in the sense we used to have in Russellville, but there are a few really pleasant people near by. There are the Hamiltons just back of us. She is the one who sent the jellied chicken for our luncheon the day you came. Don’t put so much water on the flowers, dear.” (This last remark was addressed to Dimmie.) Dimmie began to drum on the tin sprinkler with a trowel. “Jimmie, for heaven’s sake stop that noise,” exclaimed Nannie. “You’ll split my head. I can’t hear myself talk.” Dimmie ceased drumming and ran off to swing. “Of course I know you don’t have neighbors like in small towns,” Nannie pursued, speaking to Lucy again, “but I don’t mean people like the Hamiltons. I meant your social circle. Don’t you know any smart people?” “I think the Hamiltons are very nice,” said Lucy slowly. “We’re very small potatoes here, Mamma.” “Well, at home children of the first families move in the best society, even if they are poor.” “We don’t belong to the first families.” As Lucy talked she was pulling weeds from among some clumps of jonquils. “Well, _you_ certainly do, and John has told me that his father is a distinguished clergyman, and his mother is one of the Montgomerys of Virginia.” “We only know a few people and those slightly,” explained Lucy, still intent on her task. “We don’t go out much and when we do we only go to a theatre or concert with Jim.” “That’s just it, Lucy! You make no attempt to get out into the world. All these years you’ve done nothing at all. If you’d started at once, by now you would be at least on the outskirts of good society, and as fast as John made more money you could get into more select things. It’s a woman’s duty to advance herself all she can.” “We none of us care for society, Mamma, even if we could afford it.” “‘We’--who do you mean by ‘we,’ Lucy?” “Why John and Jim and me, of course,” replied Lucy with some surprise. “That’s just it, Lucy! It’s Mr. Sprague who doesn’t like to have you go out. John is as fond of society as anyone could be. I’ll tell you candidly, I think you are making a great mistake in letting an outsider----” Lucy had paused in her weeding.