“Perhaps,” replied Mrs. Lewis, her rosy face a little rosier than before. “I suppose you mean to say it is vulgar; well, maybe so. But I scarcely think a little outward show of riches should make others feel they are better because they do not care to make a display. Besides, to be less personal, I don’t think any Christian would care to put himself out to meet a Jew of any description.” “Don’t you think it would depend a great deal both on Jew and Christian? I always have been led to believe that every broad-minded man of whatever sect will recognize and honor the same quality in any other man. And why should I not move on an equality with my Christian friends? We have had the same schooling, speak the same language, read the same books, are surrounded by the same elements of home refinement. Probably if they had not been congenial, my father would long ago have ceased to associate with them. I think the secret of it all is in the fact that it never occurred to us that the most fastidious could think we were anything but the most fastidious; and so we always met any one we desired to meet on a level footing. I have a great many pleasant friends in the court of your Philistines.” “Possibly. But not having been brought up by your father, I think differently, and perhaps am different. Their ways are not my ways; and what good can you expect from such association?” “Why, pleasant companionship. What wouldst thou more?” “I? Not even that. But tell me, can’t you dissuade Aunt Esther from going to-night? Tell your father, and let him judge if you had better not.” “I really think Mamma would not care to go, for she said as much to Father; but, averse as he generally is to going out, he insists on our going to-night, and, what is more, intends to accompany us, although Louis is going also. But if you think Mamma is seriously run down, I shall tell him immediately, and--” A blithe voice at the door interrupted her, calling: “Open the door, Ruth; my hands are full.” She rose hastily, and with a signal of silence to her loquacious cousin, opened the door for her mother. “Ah, Jennie, how are your, dear? But let us inspect this box which Nora has just handed me, before we consider you;” and Mrs. Levice softly deposited a huge box upon Ruth’s lace-enveloped bed. She was still bonneted and gloved, and with a slight flush in her clear olive cheek she looked like anything but a subject for fears. From the crown of her dainty bonnet to the point of her boot she was the picture of exquisite refinement; tall, beautifully formed, carrying her head like a queen, gowned in perfect, quiet elegance, she appeared more like Ruth’s older sister than her mother. “Ruth’s gown for this evening,” she announced, deftly unfolding the wrappings. “Yellow!” exclaimed Mrs. Lewis, in surprise. “Corn-color,” corrected Mrs. Levice, playfully; “how do you think it will suit my girlie?” She continued, shaking out the clinging silken crepe.