Old gentlemen, however, were not at quite such a discount with Mrs. Mervale as with her daughter and her friend; and she continued to descant upon the high standing of Mr. Hazlewood the elder, not one word in ten of which the girls heard, for she, like most old ladies, once started upon former times, was thinking of the pleasant young John Hazlewood of early days, who brought back with him a host of reminiscences, with which she indulged herself and the girls, while they, their heads full of last night's party and Mary Morton and Robert Hazlewood, listened as civilly as they could, quite unable to keep the thread of her discourse, confounding in her history Robert Hazlewood's mother with his grandmother, and wondering all the while when she would stop, that they might resume their gossip. "You visit his sister, Mrs. Constant, don't you?" asked Augusta. "Yes, we have always visited the Hazlewoods," replied Angila, "but I am not intimate with any of them. They always seemed to me those kind of pattern people I dislike." "Is Mr. Constant well off?" inquired Mrs. Mervale. "No, I should think not," replied Angila, "from the way in which they live. They have a little bit of a two-story house, and keep only a waiter girl. How I do hate to see a woman open the door," she continued, addressing Augusta. "So do I," replied her friend. "I would have a man servant--a woman looks so shabby." "Yes," returned Angila. "There's nothing I dislike so much. No woman shall ever go to my door." "If you have a man servant," suggested Mrs. Mervale. "Of course," said Angila; "and that I will." "But suppose you cannot afford it," said her mother. "I don't choose to suppose any thing so disagreeable or improbable," replied her daughter, gayly. "It may be disagreeable," continued Mrs. Mervale, "but I don't see the improbability of the thing, Angila, nor, indeed, the disagreeability even. The Constants are young people with a small family, and I think a woman is quite sufficient for them. Their house is small, I suppose." "Oh, yes, a little bit of a place." "Large enough for them," replied Mrs. Mervale, whose ideas were not as enlarged as her daughter's. "Perhaps so," said Angila, "but I do hate low ceilings so. I don't care about a large house, but I do like large rooms." "You can hardly have large rooms in a small house," remarked Mrs. Mervale, smiling. "Why, Mrs. Astley's is only a two-story house, mamma, and her rooms are larger than these." "Yes, my dear, Mrs. Astley's is an expensive house; the lot must be thirty feet by--" But Angila had no time to go into the dimensions of people's "lots." She and Augusta were back to the party again; and they discussed dresses, and looks, and manners, with great _goût_.