Harcourt joined Addie, and they began to whisper satirical criticisms on the remarks and manners of those around. Hemstead's interest mainly centred in watching Lottie, and in noting the effect of her contact with plain and uncultured people. He was glad he did not see the repulsion of a little mind and a narrow nature, as was the case with most of the others. Though it was evident that she had no sympathy with them, or for them, there was intelligent interest and wide-awake curiosity. While the others were incasing themselves in exclusive pride, she was eager to investigate and get en rapport with this new phase of humanity. But trammailed by her city ideas, she felt that she could not speak to any one without the formality of an introduction. But the ice was broken for her unexpectedly. Feeling her dress pulled, she turned and found a very stout old lady sitting near her, who asked in a loud whisper, "Been down to supper yet?" "No," said Lottie, "I don't wish any." "I do, but I'm afeard I won't get none. You see I'm big and clumsy anyway, and now I'm so lame with the rheumatiz that I kin hardly move." "It's too bad," said Lottie, pathetically, but with a swift comical glance at the others. "Yes, it's kinder orful to be so helpless," said the old woman, with a complacent sigh, delighted at having a sympathetic auditor. "I'm dreadfully afeard I won't git no supper. I'm like the withered man at the pool of Bethesdy. Whenever they are ready for another batch 'while I'm a-comin' another steppeth down before me.'" "Well, you're not very much withered, that's one comfort to be thankful for," said Lottie. "I'd like to be thankful for my supper, if I could only git a chance," persisted the old woman. "You shall have a chance. When is the pool troubled? When shall we put you in?" "There! now is the time," said her new acquaintance, dropping her affected and pious tone, and speaking with sharp eagerness. "See, one batch is comin' up, and 'nother is going down." "Mr. Hemstead, will you assist me in escorting this old lady to the supper-table?" Hemstead's face was aglow with approval, and he instantly complied, while the others, understanding Lottie better, were convulsed with laughter. It was no easy thing for them unitedly to manage the hobbling mountain of flesh. When they came to the narrow stairway, matters were still more serious. "You shall go first," whispered Lottie to Hemstead, "for if she should fall on me, good-by, Lottie Marsden." Hemstead patiently, carefully, and with the utmost deference, assisted the helpless creature down the stairs. "You're as polite to her as if she were a duchess," said Lottie, in a low tone. "She is more than a duchess. She is a woman," he replied. Lottie gave him a quick, pleased look, but said, "Such old-fashioned chivalry is out of date, Mr. Hemstead." "He's right, miss," said the old woman, sharply. "I'm not Dutch."