“She'd not say any such thing; she'd not describe me like a governess; she 'd probably say I was too demonstrative,--that's a phrase in vogue just now,--and hint that I was a little vulgar. But I assure you,” added she, seriously, “I'm not so when I speak French. It is a stupid attempt on my part to catch up what I imagine must be English frankness when I talk the language that betrays me into all these outspoken extravagances. Let us talk French now.” “You 'll have the conversation very nearly to yourself then,” said Beecher, “for I'm a most indifferent linguist.” “Well, then, I must ask you to take my word for it, and believe that I 'm well bred when I can afford it. But your sister,--do tell me of her.” “She is 'très grande dame,' as you would call it,” said Beecher; “very quiet, very cold, extremely simple in language, dresses splendidly, and never knows wrong people.” “Who are wrong people?” “I don't exactly know how to define them; but they are such as are to be met with in society, not by claim of birth and standing, but because they are very rich, or very clever, in some way or other,--people, in fact, that one has to ask who they are.” “I understand. But that must apply to a pretty wide circle of this world's habitants.” “So it does. A great part of Europe, and _all_ America,” said Beecher, laughing. “And papa and myself, how should we come through this formidable inquiry?” “Well,” said he, hesitating, “your father has always lived so much out of the world,--this kind of world, I mean,--so studiously retired, that the chances are that, in short--” “In short, they 'd ask, 'Who are these Davises?'” She threw into her face, as she spoke, such an admirable mimicry of proud pretension that Beecher laughed immoderately at it “And when they 'd ask it,” continued she, “I 'd be very grateful to you to tell me what to reply to them, since I own to you it is a most puzzling question to myself.” “Well,” said Beecher, in some embarrassment, “it is strange enough; but though your father and I are very old friends,--as intimate as men can possibly be,--yet he has never spoken to me about his family or connections,--nay, so far has he carried his reserve, that, until yesterday, I was not aware he had a daughter.” “You don't mean to say he never spoke of me?” “Never to _me_, at least; and, as I have told you, I believe no one possesses a larger share of his confidence than myself.”