"Mr. Morton doesn't flatter," said Mrs. Bowen thoughtfully, turning the feather screen she held at her face, now edgewise, now flatwise, toward Colville. "Oh no," owned Miss Graham. "He's a clergyman." Mrs. Bowen addressed herself to Colville. "You must go to hear him some day. He's very interesting, if you don't mind his being rather Low Church." Colville was going to pretend to an advanced degree of ritualism; but it occurred to him that it might be a serious matter to Mrs. Bowen, and he asked instead who was the Rev. Mr. Waters. "Oh, isn't he lovely?" cried Miss Graham. "There, Mrs. Bowen! Mr. Waters's manner is what I call _truly_ complimentary. He always talks to you as if he expected you to be interested in serious matters, and as if you were his intellectual equal. And he's so _happy_ here in Florence! He gives you the impression of feeling every breath he breathes here a privilege. You ought to hear him talk about Savonarola, Mr. Colville." "Well," said Colville, "I've heard a great many people talk about Savonarola, and I'm rather glad he talked to me about American girls." "American girls!" uttered Miss Graham, in a little scream. "Did Mr. Waters talk to you about _girls_?" "Yes. Why not? He was probably in love with one once." "Mr. Waters?" cried the girl. "What nonsense!" "Well, then, with some old lady. Would you like that better?" Miss Graham looked at Mrs. Bowen for permission, as it seemed, and then laughed, but did not attempt any reply to Colville. "You find even that incredible of such pyramidal antiquity," he resumed. "Well, it _is_ hard to believe. I told him what that German said, and we agreed beautifully about another type of American girl which we said we preferred." "Oh! What could it be?" demanded Miss Graham. "Ah, it wouldn't be so easy to say right off-hand," answered Colville indolently. Mrs. Bowen put her hand under the elbow of the arm holding her screen. "I don't believe I should agree with you so well," she said, apparently with a sort of didactic intention. They entered into a discussion which is always fruitful with Americans--the discussion of American girlhood, and Colville contended for the old national ideal of girlish liberty as wide as the continent, as fast as the Mississippi. Mrs. Bowen withstood him with delicate firmness. "Oh," he said, "you're Europeanised." "I certainly prefer the European plan of bringing up girls," she replied steadfastly. "I shouldn't think of letting a daughter of mine have the freedom I had." "Well, perhaps it will come right in the next generation, then; she will let her daughter have the freedom she hadn't." "Not if I'm alive to prevent it," cried Mrs. Bowen. Colville laughed. "Which plan do you prefer, Miss Graham?" "I don't think it's quite the same now as it used to be," answered the girl evasively.