Bored by desultory chatter, Eva talked as she wrote, painstakingly although with unusual rapidity. I saw the room into which she peeped, the hostess pouring tea with her nice attention to details. The open windows admitted the first soft air of spring; outside was Washington Square in its new raiment of pale green leaves. The setting sun cast lances of yellow light through the branches of the gnarled old trees. The winding paths were thronged with excitedly jabbering Italians, who made way for their children on roller-skates and closed in again like the sea. Even with this breath of outdoors, and with the room gay with cut hyacinths, Mrs. Van Suydam’s house smelled of lavender, of lemon verbena, and of dried rose leaves. “I always say that your house is the only place left in New York where I feel at home, Lavinia,” had almost sighed Mr. Tillinghast. His faded eyes became quite vacant, as if he looked inward at his memory of another house, now, alas, fallen. “Did you ever think that houses may have souls--souls as individual as our own immortal souls?” He was of a generation not ashamed to speak openly of the immortal soul which they took for granted resided temporarily within their mortal bodies. “Don’t you think the call of a house like this is a loud call? I sometimes wonder if Nicholas hears it--yet?” “Wasn’t that too adorable, Dinah?” Eva interrupted her story to ask. “He so fitted in with the smell of lavender. And Miss Augusta briskly called him to task for being impractical. There’s a man who adores a woman in the right way! He said to her that when he spoke of creeping age he alluded only to himself! I almost ran in to hug him; but I thought I’d best wait and see what else they had to say about me. I could see that I only stood knee-high with the Misses Ingoldsby, who went into a squabble at this moment. They wanted to know why Nick was staying behind, permitting me to go unattended to Europe. They took the position that poor dear Nicholas couldn’t afford to go; and they left it to be inferred that I was bankrupting him. Miss Augusta threw a censuring look at Mr. Tillinghast and announced that I am far too pretty to go traipsing over Europe alone. ‘I never--’ she said--‘did trust Frenchmen.’ She sank into deep thought and open doubts. She stirred her tea, efficiently crushing the slice of lemon with her spoon and avoiding the splash that a more frivolous woman would have brought about. ‘Ahem!’ she finally produced triumphantly. ‘I could have told you the line to take, Lavinia. I’m very fond of young people, and have given time and thought to their ways; and I know that they need the guiding hand of more experienced persons through the pitfalls of their life together. One must gain the confidence of young people. Do you think that if I were to talk to Eva it would do any good?’ ‘I think,’ said my mother-in-law distinctly, ‘that it is none of your business.’ ‘Well!’ snorted Miss Augusta, sitting back in her chair. For