“Allie, if you want me to like you, don’t be a fool,” Godfrey said, sharply. “I don’t wonder the woman was what you call _airy_, which means that she stood for her rights. I heard you call her ‘Rogers’ to her face. Now that is simply absurd for Americans. In England it is more common and means nothing; but here, where there is no aristocracy of blood, and the son of the hod-carrier may rise to be President, it is ridiculous, and savors wonderfully of snobbishness and parvenuism. If this woman has a handle to her name, give it to her, and not call her ‘Rogers.’ It is low, and not a bit ladylike, and you, as Alice Creighton, can certainly afford to be a lady without taking the trouble to impress others with your rank.” Godfrey was very much in earnest, and Alice was crying, and so the walk home was a most uncomfortable one, until they reached the entrance to the grounds, where Godfrey stopped, and putting his hand playfully on his companion’s shoulder, said: “Come, Allie, don’t let’s quarrel. You are a nice little thing and I like you first-rate, and want you to be a lady everywhere, and have a kind, courteous word for everybody; Mrs. Schuyler has, and she——” “Mrs. Schuyler, indeed! As if I am to take her for a pattern, and she a governess!” Alice said hotly, as she walked rapidly on toward the house. “Whe-w!” Godfrey whistled after her as he followed leisurely, wondering why girls need to make such confounded fools of themselves, and half wishing he had held his tongue and not tried to lecture Alice. As he drew near the house he saw John, the coachman, bringing up the pony phaeton, and asked who was going out. “Miss Rossiter is going up to the Ridge House after lunch, and wants to drive herself,” said John, and Godfrey thought within himself: “That’s just the thing, and gives me a chance to surprise her. Won’t it be a capital joke?” Entering the house he went in quest of his aunt, who was dressed and feeling much better. “Mrs. Barton has asked me to come over there some day, and I believe I’ll go this afternoon. Home does not seem like home now,” she said, with a sigh, which Godfrey knew had reference to the graceful figure walking on the terrace in front of the window, and so did not respond at once. When he did speak, he said: “By the way, auntie, were you really in earnest about that bedstead?” “What bedstead?” Miss Rossiter asked quickly, and then recollecting herself, she added: “Certainly I was. It hurt me cruelly to see it leave the house when Emily thought so much of it. But then I must get accustomed to things of that kind, I suppose. New lords, new laws, and new things.”