“And despised,” said Clara. “I have noticed always and without exception, that the men who bow the lowest before us, pick up our fans, when dropped, with the greatest alacrity, and make the most adulatory speeches, are just those who respect us least. I can give you a good illustration, Miss Charlotte,” continued Clara: “the last time I was in Boston, as I was passing up Court Street, a poor old apple-woman had her stand upset. There were many men passing, and I noticed that every one of the elegant low-bowers, or fan-servants, passed on without the slightest show of sympathy. One, only, a very young fellow, rather poorly dressed, I found helping me set up the poor old woman’s stand and pick up the scattered fruit.” “Did you give him your card?” asked Miss Charlotte, smiling. “I did; and allowed him to walk on beside me while I gave him my notions of a true gentleman; and more, he has written to me twice. His name is Edward Page. I will show you his pretty, enthusiastic letters; and still more, Miss Charlotte, when I found he was a poor boy, struggling against fate alone in Boston, I offered him, with Susie’s consent, of course, constant employment with Dykes & Delano, and he is coming next week to take the place.” “Bravo!” exclaimed the count. “I must beg your pardon, Mrs. Delano, for believing, heretofore, that Madam Susie had more business capacity than her partner. You will always choose your assistants wisely. You will make them devoted to you, and secure faithful work. This is the great secret of success as a leader of industry.” “I have been brought up so differently,” said Miss Charlotte. “The talk of you radicals sounds to me as if it came from another planet; and still I find I have to agree with you. I confess that when I have, on the street, refused a courtesy from a stranger, as, for instance, the offer of an umbrella in a shower, I have always felt a little mean.” The conversation followed this strain until the train reached Boston; and then the count left the ladies at the door of the carriage waiting for Miss Delano. CHAPTER XXXV. THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP OBEYS.