“I am not aware that I treat Mr. Tressalia indifferently, papa. He is a very pleasant gentleman, and I enjoy his society exceedingly.” “Then why did you avoid him so persistently to-day?” he demanded. “I would not appear to avoid any of our friends,” Editha said, with a deepening flush; “but really I do not enjoy being monopolized by one person so entirely as I have been the past two or three weeks.” “What particular objection have you to Mr. Tressalia?” “None whatever. I repeat, he is a very cultivated and agreeable gentleman, and I enjoy his society.” “Then I desire that you may show a little more pleasure in it,” Mr. Dalton returned, impatiently. “In what way, papa? _How_ shall I _show_ my pleasure in Mr. Tressalia’s society?” Editha asked, looking up at him with a droll expression of innocence. Mr. Dalton flushed hotly himself now. It was not an easy question to answer, for, of course, he could not say that he would like her to become unmaidenly conspicuous in her pleasure, and it was rather a difficult and perplexing matter to make a _rule_ for her to follow, and one, too, that would bring about the end he so much desired. “What a question, Editha!” he exclaimed, after a moment’s thought; “when you are pleased with _anything_, it is not difficult to show it, is it?” “Oh, no; but then there are different degrees of pleasure, you know; and, from the way you spoke, I thought perhaps you desired me to adopt the _superlative_, and that, I fear, would be ‘mortifying’ to you,” she said, with a sparkle of mischief in her tones. She was laughing at him now, and Mr. Dalton did not find himself in a very agreeable position. He remembered that he had once chided her very severely for being so demonstrative, and cautioned her not to “_gush_,” saying it was all “very well for a young lady to express her feelings in a proper way, and at a proper time, but it was _mortifying_ to him to have her carry quite so much sail.” Editha doubtless remembered it also, and referred to this very lecture, judging from her words and manner, and for a moment he hardly knew what reply to make. “I think your sarcasm is a little ill-timed,” he at length said, stiffly. “Mr. Tressalia has hitherto paid you marked attention, and you have not demurred; but your avoidance of him to-day could not fail to occasion him surprise and pain, and also remark on the part of others. As for your being monopolized by one person, as you express it, there are very few young ladies in Newport who would not be very glad to be chosen from among the many by a man like Paul Tressalia.” “It is not Mr. Tressalia that I object to at all; it is the idea of always being paired off with him, as if no other gentleman had any right to approach me,” Editha said, with heightening color. “You object to him, then, as a permanent escort?” “Yes, sir, I do,” she answered, decidedly. “And why, if I may ask?”