“How are you?” exclaimed that lady, extending a white-gloved hand with a cordiality that astonished her friends. “It is so pleasant to see you here, Mr.--Mr.--” “How be you?” said Mr. Braden, taking her fingers in the gingerly manner he would have handled one of Mr. Crewe's priceless curios. The giraffe Mr. Barnum had once brought to Ripton was not half as interesting as this immaculate and mysterious production of foreign dressmakers and French maids, but he refrained from betraying it. His eye rested on the lorgnette. “Near-sighted, be you?” he inquired,--a remark so unexpected that for the moment Mrs. Pomfret was deprived of speech. “I manage to see better with--with these,” she gasped, “when we get old--you know.” “You hain't old,” said Mr. Braden, gallantly. “If you be,” he added, his eye travelling up and down the Parisian curves, “I wouldn't have suspected it--not a mite.” “I'm afraid you are given to flattery, Mr.--Mr.--” she replied hurriedly. “Whom have I the pleasure of speaking to?” “Job Braden's my name,” he answered, “but you have the advantage of me.” “How?” demanded the thoroughly bewildered Mrs. Pomfret. “I hain't heard your name,” he said. “Oh, I'm Mrs. Pomfret--a very old friend of Mr. Crewe's. Whenever he has his friends with him, like this, I come over and help him. It is so difficult for a bachelor to entertain, Mr. Braden.” “Well,” said Mr. Braden, bending alarmingly near her ear, “there's one way out of it.” “What's that?” said Mrs. Pomfret. “Git married,” declared Mr. Braden. “How very clever you are, Mr. Braden! I wish poor dear Mr. Crewe would get married--a wife could take so many burdens off his shoulders. You don't know Mr. Crewe very well, do you?” “Callate to--so so,” said Mr. Braden. Mrs. Pomfret was at sea again. “I mean, do you see him often?” “Seen him once,” said Mr. Braden. “G-guess that's enough.” “You're a shrewd judge of human nature, Mr. Braden,” she replied, tapping him on the shoulder with the lorgnette, “but you can have no idea how good he is--how unceasingly he works for others. He is not a man who gives much expression to his feelings, as no doubt you have discovered, but if you knew him as I do, you would realize how much affection he has for his country neighbours and how much he has their welfare at heart.” “Loves 'em--does he--loves 'em?” “He is like an English gentleman in his sense of responsibility,” said Mrs. Pomfret; “over there, you know, it is a part of a country gentleman's duty to improve the condition of his--his neighbours. And then Mr. Crewe is so fond of his townspeople that he couldn't resist doing this for them,” and she indicated with a sweep of her eyeglasses the beatitude with which they were surrounded. “Wahn't no occasion to,” said Mr. Braden. “What!” cried Mrs. Pomfret, who had been walking on ice for some time. “This hain't England--is it? Hain't England?” “No,” she admitted, “but--”