Spencer Mapes must perch like a raven on Nicholas Van Suydam’s shoulder--always on hand at the wrong time--making a peck at his thoughts and hitting the mark; for Miss Lois went on: “That Mr. Mapes--such a friend of Eva’s, isn’t he, Mrs. Avery?--tried to smooth Nicholas down. I heard him say ‘You’re so lucky that you don’t have to advertise your work; aren’t you? You find it difficult to see why we pander to the buyers of our goods?’ So tactful of him, to try to smooth dear Nicholas down. Nicholas has his father’s fiery temper.” Miss Augusta put her teacup down with a clatter. “Sister Lois, if you would make an effort to be less frivolous we might get at what I wished to see Mrs. Avery about.” For a minute, Miss Lois was silent. But Miss Augusta took too long to set the stage, and she started in again. “Do you know, Tilly, I do feel that all the friction started at Lavinia’s dinner? I know that’s what Gussie is getting ready to talk about. But Gussie won’t believe that----” “And how, pray,” begged Miss Augusta as if any answer would be incorrect, “did we hurt her feelings? I hold that she displayed a lamentable lack of the proper feeling. You ask what happened, Mrs. Avery? I’ll tell you. I aroused fury on her part by asking her to recite some of her work.” The younger Miss Ingoldsby repeated her idea. The elder Miss Ingoldsby dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. “She was merely awaiting an excuse to drag Nicholas out of the home of his ancestors.” “If you had asked her in another way?” ventured Mr. Tillinghast. His long loyalty did not fail Miss Augusta. Once upon a time, she might have loved a married man, but he had every confidence in her. His suggestion was without the strength of conviction. Miss Augusta appealed to me in a deadly calm. “Mrs. Avery, do you see why Eva should have been affronted? I’ve always understood that authors like nothing better than to read their writings to their friends.” I was immediately under the necessity of saying with emphasis: “To their friends, yes. Mightn’t it have been that Eva felt you weren’t friends?” This released all forces hitherto pent in convention. “I must tell you, Mrs. Avery,” said Miss Augusta with spirit, “that Nicholas’ wife will bring his mother’s grey hair in sorrow to the grave.” I luxuriated in this hackneyed condemnation. She looked sharply at me. “That amuses you? But tell me this: could you yourself live amicably in the house with Eva Van Suydam?” It was not compulsory to tell her the truth, that none of us could live together. Quiet at home was necessary; and with more than one seeking quiet, noise, strangely enough, reigned. “When she left Lavinia’s dinner-party,” resumed Miss Augusta, “she was in a tantrum. She said ‘I’m a working woman, and must get home to my labours’. Poor Nicholas! His face was a study.” I helped myself to another buttered muffin. The Misses Ingoldsby were heavy providers.