"Why, my son, what language!" said his mother, surprised; though she felt, too, the force of his comparison, as she lived in the country of the mule. "Excuse me, ma; I am excited, or rather I have been. But Garda is one of us, you know, and we could not, _I_ could not, with a clear conscience allow them to separate her from us entirely, hurry her off into a society of which we know little or nothing, save that it is totally different from our own--modern--mercantile--hurrying" (the Doctor was evidently growing excited again)--"all that we most dislike. You are probably thinking that there are Mrs. Rutherford, Mrs. Harold, yes, and Mr. Winthrop too (if he would only dress himself more as a gentleman should), to answer for it, to serve as specimens. Those charming ladies would grace, I admit, any society--any society in the world! But I am convinced that they are not specimens, they are exceptions; I am convinced that society at the North is a very different affair. And, besides, Garda belongs here. Her ancestors have been men of distinction,--among the most distinguished, indeed, of this whole coast; I _may_ be mistaken, of course, ma; I _may_ be too severe; but still I cannot help thinking that at the North this would fall on ignorant ears; that the people there are too--too ignorant of such matters to appreciate them." "I reckon you are right," replied Mrs. Kirby. "Still, Reginald, we must not forget that it was the mother's own wish that Mrs. Harold should take charge of Garda." "Yes, ma, I know. Poor little Mistress Thorne, to whom I was most sincerely attached"--here the Doctor paused to give a vigorous cough--"was, we must remember, a New-Englander by birth, after all; and in spite of her efforts (most praiseworthy they were too), she never _quite_ outgrew that fact. It couldn't, therefore, be expected that she should comprehend fully the great advantages (even taking merely the worldly view of it) of having her daughter continue to live here--here where such a descent is acknowledged, and proper honor paid to ancestors of distinction." "True, my son," said the neat little old lady, knitting on. "But still a mother has a good deal to do with the 'descent!' I'm not sure that she hasn't even more than an ancestor--ahem." On the whole, as matters were now arranged, with Dr. Kirby appointed as guardian, it could be said that Gracias accepted the new order of things regarding Garda's future. Not thankfully or gratefully, not with inward relief; it was simply an acquiescence. They felt, too, that their acquiescence was magnanimous. The only discordant element was Mrs. Rutherford. And she was very discordant indeed. But as she confined the expression of her feelings to her niece, the note of dissonance did not reach the others.