Mrs. Salfield and Mrs. Ramon, leaders in Cincinnati’s fashionable society, were disposed in a comfortable corner of Mrs. Salfield’s ballroom. They were sheltered from rheumatism-provoking draughts. They were at conversational range from the music. They commanded a full view of the beautiful ball, even of the supper room, where a dozen men were “mopping up the champagne instead of doing their dancing duty,” as Mrs. Ramon put it. Mrs. Ramon, posing as of the younger generation, went in--somewhat awkwardly--for the “picturesque” in language. Mrs. Salfield, frankly an old woman, tolerated slang as she tolerated rowdy modern manners and “disgraceful, not to say indecent exposure in ball dresses”; but in her own person she adhered to the old fashions of moderately low dresses and moderately incorrect English. Said Mrs. Ramon: “There goes that charming grandniece of yours. How graceful she is. I thought you told me she was twenty-nine.” “Eleanor Clearwater--twenty-nine!” exclaimed Mrs. Salfield. “She’s not yet twenty-four.” “Oh, I remember, you said she _looked_ twenty-nine--so serious--dignified--reserved--really icy. But that was only two months ago. She looks eighteen now. She’s been away--hasn’t she?” “Just returned,” said Mrs. Salfield. “It did her a world of good--freshened her up--no, softened--no, I mean warmed.” “She’s been visiting the Hollisters, down at Harrison.” “A country town. I supposed she’d been to baths or springs or something. Really the change in her is quite miraculous. She has waked up.” “Eleanor never was what one’d call sleepy,” said Mrs. Salfield, rather stiffly. “Oh, she was always interested in _things_--books, serious subjects--too much so for my taste. But you know what I mean. She looks _human_--looks as if she had a human interest. It was the one thing lacking to make her entirely interesting and beautiful--to give her magnetism. You notice how the men flock about her. She’s having a triumph. Why, she looks round--looks at the men--in a positively flirtatious way. Really, Clara, it’s too wonderful. _What_ has happened to her?” “What could happen to a girl in Harrison? Nothing but Bart Hollister.” “It couldn’t be Bart,” said Mrs. Ramon. “It isn’t anybody,” said Mrs. Salfield. “It’s simply a case of coming-to a little late. So many young people take life too solemnly at first. They feel responsible for it.”