Another guest now appeared--Mrs. Kip. For Mrs. Franklin had invited them all to lunch before the jessamine hunt, which had been appointed for that afternoon. As it happened, Mrs. Kip's first question also was, "How is Miss Mackintosh?" "Unchanged. At least, she treats _me_ with the same contumely," answered the clergyman. "If you indulge yourself with such words as 'contumely,' Mr. Hill, people will call you affected," said Dolly, in humorous warning. "Now, Dolly, don't say that," interposed Mrs. Kip. "For unusual words are full of dignity. I don't know what I wouldn't give if _I_ could bring in, just naturally and easily, when I am talking, such a word, for instance, as jejune! And for clergymen it is especially distinguished. Though there is _one_ clerical word, Mr. Hill, that I do think might be altered, and that is closet. Why should we always be told to meditate in our closets? Generally there is no room for a chair; so all one can think of is people sitting on the floor among the shoes." Every one laughed. Mrs. Kip, however, had made her remark in perfect good faith. The entrance of Walter Willoughby completed the party, and lunch was announced. When the meal was over, and they came back to the parlor, they found Felicite in waiting with Petie Trone, Esq. Felicite, a French woman with a trim waist and large eyes, always looked as though she would like to be wicked. In reality, however, she was harmless, for one insatiable ambition within her swallowed up all else, namely, the ambition not to be middle-aged. As she was forty-eight, the struggle took all her time. "I bring to madame le petit trone for his promenade," she said, as, after a respectful salutation to the company, she detached the leader from the dog's collar. "Must that fat little wretch go with us?" Chase inquired, after the maid had departed. For answer, Ruth took up Mr. Trone and deposited him on her husband's knee. "Yes; and you are to see to him." "Is the squirrel down here too?" inquired Walter. "I haven't seen him." "Robert the Squirrel--" began Chase, with his hands in his trousers pockets; then he paused. "That's just like Robert the Devil, isn't it? I mean an opera, ma'am, of that name that they were giving in New York last winter," he explained to Mrs. Franklin, so that she should not think he was swearing. "Robert the Devil will do excellently well as a nickname for Bob," said Dolly. "It's the best he has had."