"Yes, but one that will not hurt you," Eve answered. "For Miss Leontine prefers those novels where the hero and heroine are married to begin with, and then fall in love with each other afterwards; everything on earth may happen to them during this process--poisonings and murders and shootings; she does not mind these in the least, for it's sure in any case to be _moral_, don't you see, because they were married in the beginning. And marriage makes everything perfectly safe; doesn't it, Miss Leontine?" "I am sure I don't know," answered Miss Leontine, still a prey to nervousness; "but--but I have always _supposed_ so. Yes. We read them aloud," she added, turning for relief to Cousin Sarah Cray; "that is, I read to Polly--in the evenings." "These modern novels seem to me poor productions," commented the judge, turning over the pages of the volume he had taken. "Naturally," responded Eve. "May I ask why 'naturally'?" "Oh, men who read their Montaigne year after year without change, and who quote Charles Lamb, never care for novels, unless, indeed, it may be 'Tom Jones.' Montaigne and Lamb, Latin quotations that are not hard, a glass of good wine with his dinner, and a convexity of person--these mark your non-appreciator of novels, from Warwickshire to Gary Hundred." "Upon my word, young lady--" began the judge, laughing. But Miss Leontine, by her rising, interrupted him. "I think I must go now. Yes. Thank you." "But you have only just come," said Cousin Sarah Cray. "I stopped to leave the books. Yes; really; that was all. Thanks, you are very kind. Yes; thank you." She fumbled ineffectually for the handle of the door, and, when it was opened for her, with an embarrassed bow she passed out, her long back bent forward, her step hurried. "I can't imagine what is the matter with her," said Cousin Sarah Cray, returning. "I am afraid, Sarah, that I can inform you," answered the judge gravely, putting down the volume. "I met her in her own garden about an hour ago, and we fell into conversation; I don't know what possessed me, but in relating some anecdote of a jocular nature which happened to be in my mind at the time, by way of finish--I can't imagine what I was thinking of--but I up and chucked her under the chin." "Chucked Miss Leontine!" exclaimed Cousin Sarah Cray, aghast, while Eve gave way to irrepressible mirth. "Was she--was she deeply offended?" "She was simply paralyzed with astonishment. I venture to say"--here the judge sent an eye-beam towards the laughing Eve--"I venture to say that Miss Leontine has never been chucked under the chin in all her life before." "Certainly not," answered Cousin Sarah Cray; "she is far too dignified." Then, with a desire to be strictly truthful, she added, "Perhaps when she was a baby?" But even this seemed doubtful. Not long after this the Misses Wingfield (it was really Miss Polly) gave a party. "Must we go?" said Eve.