I did not deem it prudent to take any notice of her; and, across the aisle, I read the headings in large type in Mr. Collingsby's newspaper, for I had none of my own to help me in preserving my dignity, or rather in cultivating it. "Some folks don't know much," added the old lady, spitefully. I was perfectly willing to grant the truth of this proposition, even without knowing whether it was intended to apply to Mr. Collingsby or to me; though I was compelled to believe it was all in the family, and made no difference. It was undeniable that "some folks didn't know much;" but I was forced to deduce the corollary that the old lady was one of the unfortunates included in the proposition. "I say, some folks don't know much," repeated the old lady, forcibly. "That Mr. Collingsby needn't put on airs, and pretend he don't know me. I know'd him the moment that conductor-man spoke his name. He ain't no better'n I am. My son's his pardner in business." I couldn't help looking at her then. Her lips wore pursed up, and she was the very impersonation of offended dignity. Her remark rather startled me, and if it was true, I wished to make her acquaintance. "Perhaps he didn't recognize you," I ventured to suggest. "Perhaps he didn't; but none are so blind as them that won't see. Yes, that man is my son's pardner in business; and my son is every bit and grain as good as he is, though I say it, who ought not to say it. My name's Whippleton, and my son's name is Charles Whippleton. I s'pose you've heard of the firm of Collingsby and Whippleton--hain't you?" "I never did," I replied. Mr. Collingsby read his newspaper, and did not appear to hear a word that was said; but I fancied his dignity was subjected to a severe trial. "Where have you been all your life, if you never heard of Collingsby and Whippleton, the biggest lumber firm in Chicago?" added the old lady. "I never was in Chicago," I replied. "O, you never was! Well, it's a sight to see! You hain't seen much of the world if you never was in Chicago. Well, you are like a chicken that ain't hatched; all your troubles are to come. There's a great many mean folks in the world; you'll find that out soon enough. For my part, if there's anything in this world that I hate, it's mean folks," continued Mrs. Whippleton, glancing maliciously across the aisle at Mr. Collingsby. "That man's meaner'n gravel-stone chowder." The old lady dropped her voice a little, as though she meant to be confidential on this point. I was rather sorry to have the character of my presumed uncle damaged in this manner, but I was not sufficiently acquainted with him to attempt a defence. "It was meaner'n dirt for him to set down side of me, and not even say how d'ye do! I hate mean folks. I ain't mean myself. There ain't a mean bone in my body--no, there ain't, if I do say it, that oughtn't to say it." "Probably the gentleman did not recognize you," I suggested again.