"Well, we must be grateful to them for keeping you, I suppose. I don't think you have been a very valuable neighbor so far, however. You haven't lived enough in the country to know what is expected of neighbors, perhaps." "No, I must confess--" "Why, neighbors in the country have a serious duty in the winter. They spend evenings very often together; they play cribbage, they bring over the evening paper; they take watches to town to be mended; they mail letters, they even carry bundles." "I should think Mr. Andrews would give up the lease of his house if you put much more before him as his duty for next winter." Missy said this quite loftily, having grown red and white, possibly a little yellow, since her aunt began to speak. Her loftiness, perhaps, piqued Mr. Andrews a little, for he said, turning to her: "Hasn't a neighbor any summer duties? I hope Miss Varian will make me out a list." "With pleasure," cried Miss Varian, scenting mischief in the air. "My aunt's ideas of duty are individual, pray let me say," Missy put in, in not the most perfectly suave tone. "A neighbor, in the summer," went on Miss Varian, as if she had not spoken, "a neighbor in the summer comes across after dinner, and smokes his cigar at the beach gate, if any of the family are sitting on the lawn. In rainy weather he comes over for a game of cards; occasionally he comes in time for tea; if he has a sail-boat, he takes his neighbors out sometimes to sail; he brings them peaches, the very first that come to market, and he never minds changing a book at the library in town." "But these are all privileges; you were going to tell me about duties, were you not?" "As to that, you may call them what you please, they are the whole duty of man in the country, and I can't see how you ever came to overlook them for such a length of time." "You shan't be able to reproach me any more. Peaches are not in market; and my sail-boat is not out of winter quarters. But I might change a library book for a beginning. Haven't you got one that I might try my hand upon?" "To be sure I have," said this hateful woman, with great enjoyment of her niece's anger; "I have a volume of Balzac that Goneril has just got through, under protest, and I'd like to have another, to make an utter end of her. It's my only chance of getting rid of her, and you would be a family benefactor." "Please, let me have the book," said Mr. Andrews. "Is it this one on the table?" "No," said Miss Varian. "I don't think it is down-stairs. Missy, ring the bell for Goneril to get it; will you?" Missy had been sitting with her head turned away, and her lips pressed together. After her aunt spoke, she sat quite still for a moment, as if she could not bring herself to execute the order; then, without speaking, got up and walked across to the bell, and rang it, sitting down when she came back, a little further from the light, and from the two talkers.