"Yes, she has a sharp tongue, but a kind heart; and she does a great deal of good in the village; but, poor soul! she has no sense of humor--none whatever. Then of course she is not in society, you know. You will find, Mr. Maxwell, that social lines are very carefully drawn in this town; there are so many grades, and one has to be careful, you know." "Is it so! How many people are there in the town?" "Possibly eight or nine hundred." "And how many of them are 'in society'?" "Oh, I should imagine not more than twenty or thirty." "They must be very select." "Oh, we are; quite so." "Don't you ever get tired of seeing the same twenty or thirty all the time? I'm afraid I am sufficiently vulgar to like a change, once in a while--somebody real common, you know." Miss Bascom raised her lorgnette in pained surprise and gazed at Donald curiously; then she sighed and tapping her fingers with her glasses replied: "But one has to consider the social responsibilities of one's position, you know. Many of the village people are well enough in their way, really quite amusing as individuals; but one cannot alter social distinctions." "I see," replied Donald, non-committally. Virginia was beginning to think that the new rector was rather dull in his perceptions, rather _gauche_, but, deciding to take a charitable view, she held out her hand with a beaming smile as she said: "Remember, you are to make Willow Bluff one of your homes. We shall always be charmed to see you." When, after their respective shoppings were completed, Maxwell rejoined Mrs. Burke, and they had started on a brisk trot towards home, she remarked: "So you have had a visit with the Senior Warden." "Yes, and with Miss Bascom. She came into the office while I was there." "Hm! Well! She's one of your flock!" "Would you call Miss Bascom one of my lambs?" asked Donald mischievously. "Oh, that depends on where you draw the line. Don't you think she's handsome?" "I can hardly say. What do you think about it?" "Oh, I don't know. When she's well dressed she has a sort of style about her; but isn't it merciful that we none of us know how we really do look? If we did, we wouldn't risk bein' alone with ourselves five minutes without a gun." "Is that one for Miss Bascom?" "No, I ought not to say a word against Virginia Bascom. She's a good sort accordin' to her lights; and then too, she is a disconnection of mine by marriage--once removed." "How do you calculate that relationship?" "Oh, her mother's brother married my sister. She suspected that he was guilty of incompatibility--and she proved it, and got a divorce. If that don't make a disconnection of Ginty Bascom, then I don't know what does. Virginia was born in Boston, though she was brought up here. It must be terrible to be born in Boston, and have to live up to it, when you spend your whole life in a place like Durford. But Ginty does her very best, though occasionally she forgets."